Santa Baby
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Mild Spoilers for 5x09 "Secret Santa" "This Christmas is going to be awesome!" he declares, pressing his fingers over his mouth to contain the excitement that looks ready to fly out of him and race around the room somewhere near the ceiling, like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. Change of Rating to M. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 Curb Your Enthusiasm

_Disclaimer: Santa says he's working on it..._

* * *

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 1: Curb Your Enthusiasm**_

"So, Alexis gets home Friday. That'll give us the entire weekend to decorate the loft and find a tree. We usually do all of that a lot earlier, but since she has classes until last minute this year…"

Castle is chattering away, nineteen to the dozen, about his Christmas plans for cooking and decorating and gift buying, and Kate is trying hard to stay interested in the conversation. But her brain keeps tuning him out, and now he's staring at her, and…oh god, he looks like he might have just asked her a question...

"Sorry, you were saying?" she asks, trying to quash the blank look she suspects is showing on her face.

But he's so wrapped up in his own little spruce-scented, jingle-belling, snowflake dusted world, oblivious to her disinterest that, if she's honest, is bordering on actual distress, that he doesn't even notice.

"So, I thought a…a book for your dad…a first edition maybe. You can help me choose, right?" he muses aloud, not even stopping to check on her reaction, away with the fairies in his own little gifting fantasia.

"Or…or Yankees tickets," he proclaims enthusiastically, clapping his hands and bouncing in his chair when inspiration hits. "I know a guy who can get us excellent seats for whenever your dad is free."

* * *

When Kate next looks up, his face is _actually flushed_, deciding on the perfect gift clearly about as stimulating as sex where Richard Castle is concerned.

"This Christmas is going to be _awesome!_" he declares, pressing his fingers over his mouth to contain the excitement that looks ready to fly out of him and race around the room somewhere near the ceiling, like the witch in the Wizard of Oz.

Kate nods along, flicking her eyes between the paperwork on her desk and her Christmas-crazed boyfriend-slash-partner.

They have an active case they're supposed to be working. But it doesn't help that it's a case about a dead Santa, giving Castle the green light to go all 'Holiday Season' on her. The case is also the perfect cover, enabling him to sit by her desk all day obsessing over stuff, like the high tech digital 'singing' tree ornaments he spotted in the SkyMall catalog, whenever Gates wanders past glaring at him.

He's out of control, and, "Castle, we have a dead Santa on our hands," just isn't cutting it.

"No. We have _THE_ dead Santa on our hands, Detective," he corrects. "Please note my use of the definite article," he adds, scolding her grammar, (_really?_) before drifting back into his mental winter wonderland.

* * *

He also seems to want Kate's opinion on the kind of tree he should get for home. He's been doing this for the last five years without her, even longer before that, so she can't quite understand why her input is so crucial all of a sudden.

Douglas Fir, Scotch Pine, Blue Spruce, Ponderosa Pine, Balsam Fir, Norwegian Pine, Leyland Cypress – he rhymes them off, and she really had no idea there were so many kinds, and then she makes the fatal mistake of letting him know about this gap in her tree-buying knowledge. So now he's going to make _her_ choose, but only _after _educating her on the origins and life cycle of the Christmas tree. There's a website apparently, with '_a virtual tree farm, instructional videos and everything, Beckett. You'll love it._'

She's trying not to scream, she really is.

But when Ryan joins in and starts spouting his theories on how to prevent 'needle drop', she turns to Esposito and mouths, '_Is that even a thing?'_

Esposito shakes his head at her and shrugs his shoulders, mouthing back, '_Damned if I know_.'

And then all hell breaks loose.

Castle and Ryan commandeer the murder board for (quote) 'instructional purposes', and then they start strategizing: writing up a detailed list of items required to prevent the aforementioned needle drop '_thus prolonging the life of your tree, Beckett'_.

After two minutes they're only talking to one another, since Espo and Kate are now filling out request forms (by choice) to get LUDs and tolls on Santa's cell phone, while Castle and Ryan argue over the best way to affix a water clamp to the base of said Christmas tree.

'_What the hell is a water clamp?_' Javi texts Kate, making her snigger.

Ryan says something about it all boiling down to '_to strip or not to strip'_, and when Castle of all people argues for '_never ever stripping'_, Kate's eyebrows shoot up, and he has her attention again.

For a few seconds.

"The bark _has_ to stay on, Kev," Castle tells Ryan. "No stripping."

_And_…lost her attention again.

* * *

A couple of minutes later, Castle sits down on the edge of her desk, jostling her papers while she's trying to write, clearly bored, pandering for her attention. So he starts in again with the questions.

"If you could ask Santa for anything, Beckett, anything at all. What would it be? _Hmm?_ World peace? A signed copy of Frozen Heat? Bigger boobs?"

"_Really?_" she asks, freezing him on the spot with just a look.

"Come on. There must be something you've always wanted, Kate? Let your imagination run wild. Anything?" he pushes.

"I…I'm actually pretty sure I have everything I need…_right here_," she adds, sotto voce, giving him a secret smile that shuts him up and gets him grinning.

He leaves her alone for thirty seconds after that, a hazy, loved-up look on his face. But her admission is evidently not enough to quell his need for her undivided attention.

When he starts parading one of her elephants across her desk, humming, "We Three Kings of Orient Are", she snaps, and tells him, "Castle, I have work to do."

* * *

She wants to smile, she really does, because if this were any other '_thing'_ of his it would be adorable – his excitement, the way he wants to include her, his enthusiasm, his smile and that sparkle in his eyes. But it's _Christmas_, and although she's no Grinch, she's no Mrs. Claus either. (He already asked if she'd wear the outfit. She already told him no.)

Christmas is a difficult time for her; full of good memories paired up with a deep, aching sense of loss. She usually gets through it by working and drinking and forgetting and catching up on missed sleep. But she suspects she won't get to use any of those coping strategies this time around if her partner has anything to do with it.

"Christmas ham or roast turkey, Beckett?" he asks her, the question barely registering as she falls into a daydream so vivid - she and her mom making cranberry sauce together in their old kitchen - that she can almost smell the sharp tangy berries, the sweet citrusy hit of orange peel and the warm spice of cinnamon.

He's _making_ her remember, with his questions and his Christmas cheer, and she's not sure she likes it. She's not sure she likes it at all.

"Castle, we're at work, in case you haven't noticed. Just…pick whatever," she says, waving her hand dismissively, her tone clipped and full of frustration, head already bowed over the page, fingers gripping the edge of the desk too firmly.

His face falls, eyes shuttering, and her heart clenches in her chest when she glances up and sees how this hurts him. What would it cost her to be nice, to play along?

But she can't bring herself to do that right now, so the case offers her a viable excuse to dodge the question he's been hounding her with for days: Will she spend Christmas with him and his family?

He actually wants her there from Christmas Eve through January 2nd, staying at the loft. She's pretty sure he'd push for Thanksgiving if he thought he could get away with it.

So she sighs, sits up straighter in her chair, preparing to make peace.

* * *

"Look. I just…I need a little time, okay?" she tells him, softening her voice and bringing her eyes along for the ride.

But her words don't seem to be doing anything for him today. He still looks like a little boy who just heard that Santa put him on the 'naughty list' this year.

"Time for what, Beckett?" he asks, not doing a very good job of hiding his disappointment. "Did you get a better offer or something?"

"_No_," she frowns. "_No_. Of course not." Looking up at him and shaking her head so he can see the truth written across her face.

"Then what exactly is the problem, Kate?" he whisper-hisses, pressing his palms flat on her desk and leaning towards her.

"I can't talk about this now, and I'm certainly not discussing it here," she hisses back, jerking her head towards 'Santa's little helpers', aka Detectives Ryan and Esposito, who're all into the conversation but their feet.

_Elves_ have smaller ears than these two.

"Then where? Because you've been ducking this for days, and…"

He shakes his head, slumps back in his chair away from her, falling silent; backing down from whatever ultimatum he was about to throw her way.

Wise man.

"Later," she whispers, briefly covering one of his hands with her own and squeezing, before quickly withdrawing back to her own side of the desk and focusing on the murky set of financials that may just have ended Kris Kringle's life.

* * *

He hangs around for another half-hour, moving desks to sit with the boys; he and Ryan trying to best one another with their sentimental plans for the holiday season – Ryan's first as a married man and Castle' first…_what?_

She hears Ryan suggest it first, but doesn't hear Castle's reply, just catches the gloomy look on his face when Ryan says, "So, you must be pretty excited. First Christmas with Beckett 'n all?"

The non-specific grunt is classic pouty-Castle, and when he looks over at her, most likely checking to see if she's listening in to this, she quickly flicks her eyes away, trying to make sense of the jumbled numbers and letters on the call sheet in front of her, her jaw set firm.

He gets up five minutes later, makes a show of stretching, arching his back and spreading his arms wide, exposing his broad chest to her, flexing his biceps for good measure. Then he yawns, _loudly_, and finally strolls over to pick up his overcoat from the back of his chair once he's absolutely certain that she's watching him.

"I'm gonna head out, Beckett," he tells her, trying to act nonchalant.

"Oh, right?"

She's surprised, but tries to hide it, ends up doing a bad job of course. Because much as he has been annoying her, and as much as she doesn't want to commit to Christmas at the Castles just yet, she also doesn't want him to leave…not like this.

But he's already saying goodbye to the guys and heading towards the elevator.

"Wait. Castle, wait up. I…I'll walk you out," she stammers, quickly trailing after him, no clue what she's going to say, but feeling the need to say _something_.

* * *

They stand awkwardly out in the hall, facing one another while they wait for the elevator to arrive, the dry crackle of electricity sparking between them.

Suddenly Castle looks up, and they both realize that they're standing beneath a pathetic looking bunch of mistletoe someone no doubt hung there as a joke; the berries already browning and shriveling. And Kate hopes this isn't an omen, a comment on the state of their relationship.

Their eyes drop and they silently stare at one another, kissing beneath this pitiful sprig of foliage _so_ not an option in the Precinct.

"Kate, about earlier… About Christmas," he says, his face softening, looking every inch the generous peacemaker, as usual.

"Castle, I…" she frowns, shakes her head lightly, curls dancing around her shoulders.

"If you aren't ready, just tell me?" he suggests, so gentle and fair like always.

"I'm…look, it's not…" she struggles for the right words to explain the breadth and depth and complexity that all of this holds for her.

* * *

They both startle when the Captain appears behind them.

"Mr. Castle, leaving us so soon?" purrs Gates, her tone managing to convey criticism and amusement at the same time.

Kate unconsciously flicks her eyes up to the mistletoe once more, and then she forces herself to focus relentlessly on Castle's face. _Not_ his mouth. No, _never_ on his mouth. Not here.

"Well, have a good evening," Kate says loudly, aiming for breezy and casual, stepping back, any chance for a private discussion sabotaged while Gates is watching them anyway.

"I'll call you...if the trawl through Santa's cellphone dump throws up anything interesting," she adds for effect, already halfway down the hall towards the bullpen, walking backwards away from him.

Castle steps into the elevator and raises his hand in a half-hearted wave, his lips pressed into a firm line that tells her so much more about how badly she just let him down than any yelling ever would. She feels like Peter the apostle (it's that time of year her subconscious tells her); denying Castle - everything they mean to one another, their whole relationship - in front of her boss. And it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

_Gah!_ This whole Christmas thing…it's going to be the death of them.

_A/N: This might last a few chapters, one more at least. Amazing how one nano second from a promo can send your brain reeling into fanfic space. :D Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 Write Me A Love Song

Disclaimer: Santa says he's working on it...

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 2: Write Me A Love Song, Send Me a Letter_**

She works late that night.

They finally catch a break on the Kris Kringle case around midnight, thanks to the victim's cell phone records. Kate manages to trace his last incoming call to a rival Santa from the same agency - an unemployed actor named Donny Munro - the entire homicide turning on something as mundane and unseemly as a rivalry over who got the most lucrative department store grotto placement.

Money, love, jealousy, revenge; all still top of the pops in Kate's game, and somehow that's disturbingly comforting, especially with so much uncertainty in her own life.

She lets Ryan and Esposito take the collar.

They ordered in while they built the case against Munro, deciding to push on through, wait for the ADA and a friendly judge to sign off on a warrant. But now she's tired, wants nothing more than to head home to her own apartment and her own warm bed for a good nights sleep, to quiet her racing thoughts.

Closing the case so quickly is a real result, since it minimizes the time she has to spend hanging out with the mis-matched band of Santa's little helpers they had rounded up in Interrogation for most of the evening, allowing her to leave the Precinct, weary but satisfied.

She's still troubled by how she left things with Castle; an unease she can't quite shake, can't put her finger on most of the time, until she remembers why, and then it seems all too real. It prays on her mind, but she resolves to park it, mentally speaking, until the morning; clear her head and then take another run at things with fresh eyes, just as she would on a tricky case.

She really needs time to figure out how much of her reluctance to join him is related to the extra meaning spending Christmas together will have for their relationship, and how much of it originates in her dislike of all things Festive simply because of her mom. Right now she doesn't have a clearcut answer.

* * *

A bitter wind is whipping through the open sides of the concrete parking structure, her footfalls echoing loudly off the bare walls as she strides confidently across the dimly lit garage. She tightens her red wool scarf around her neck, easing her hair out from under the knitted fabric as she walks towards the car, leather gloves and numbing fingertips making it hard to fish her keys out of her pocket.

There's a spidery frost on the windshield of her Dodge Charger even under the cover afforded by the parking garage; a fine web of ice crystals that have spread like creeping ivy across the frozen glass, front and back, covering the surface from edge-to-edge.

By the time she gets inside, she's half-frozen, and a combination of her warm breath and body heat instantly fog up the windshield. She fires up the engine, sits there letting it turn over for a bit, letting the air from the vents warm up a little so she can clear the skin of ice from the glass before she backs out of her parking spot.

How she wishes she was in her partner's luxurious Mercedes right now; heated seats, heated everything in fact, satellite radio, and his amazing hands to warm her up. Just the thought of him warms her from the inside, makes her smile. But she's still not seeing it.

* * *

She's busy re-tuning the radio from the station Castle switched it to earlier, the DJ cheerily announcing she's listening to '_the Big 98 WSIX Nashville's new country'_ before she can hit her favorite preset. And that's when she sees it – the message her partner has left for her on the ice-covered glass; three neat lines of script addressed only to her.

She freezes in her seat, if that's even possible given how cold she now is, staring at Castle's precise printing in the rearview mirror, the trace of his fingertip across the car's back light so deliberate and careful that she can see his prints at several junctures where he paused to change direction.

'_Please don't make me_

_spend another Christmas_

_without you?_'

It's simple, heartfelt, honest, direct, slightly funny, beautiful even, and just so him.

And the man wrote the message backwards for crying out loud, figuring out that she'd be reading it in reverse. Who even _thinks_ to do that? _How_ do you even do that?

She sits there staring at his little work of art until shivers wrack her body so badly that her teeth start to chatter.

* * *

When Ryan bangs on the roof of her car, she jumps like crazy, her hand flying to her chest in fright, heart racing.

"You okay in there, Beckett?" he asks, once she manages to force the window down.

"Jeez, Ryan. Scared the hell out of me. Cop with a gun, remember?"

"Sorry, Beckett. I just…you looked a little…"

"Did Castle write this on the back of your unit?" pipes up Esposito, trailing a finger through the word 'please', just as the rear window defroster starts to warm up, thin lines of clear glass growing broader by the second, erasing Castle's message with unstoppable speed.

"He…uh…I think that might be his idea of a joke," hedges Kate, feeling her cheeks heat up as she tiptoes around the edges of a lie.

"He already invited you, didn't he?" probes Esposito. "So, what's the punchline?"

Okay, no room for lying then.

"Actually, not a joke maybe, so much as… I…I haven't given him an answer yet. About whether or not to accept."

She squirms in her seat while the two men hang on every hesitant syllable, her explanation sounding poorer and poorer to her own ears with every breath.

"So he's…I think he's trying a little Castle-style persuasion," she finally manages to say, without the words getting stuck in her throat. "You know how fixated he can get when he gets an idea in his head," she adds, trying to play it down.

"So, let me get this straight. You get invited to Christmas with the Castles – millionaire, best-selling author, cute kid, nice pad, great food, amazing gifts, no doubt…"

"Crazy mother," throws in Ryan, generating a glare from Esposito for ruining the perfection of his little recap of the facts.

"…_and_ the guy you happen to be _dating_, no less," Espo continues, ignoring Ryan's interruption. "And…_what?_ You thinking about turning him down? Are you crazy or what?" he asks bluntly.

"Espo, when you say it like that it sounds so simple, I know," she sighs, rubbing her gloved hands together to keep warm.

"Well, isn't it? You…I'm mean, you love the guy, right? We can all see that."

"_Javi_," she warns him, trying to get him to back off before she has to talk about the real reason she doesn't want to go.

"You know, Javi's right," pipes up Ryan, backing up his partner. "Castle _loves_ Christmas like…like Santa loves reindeer. But he kinda loves you more, Beckett. I'm pretty sure he'd tone it down if the whole evergreen, festive cheer, elves and snowmen is not your thing."

Kate sighs again, torn between explaining and telling them both just to butt out.

"This has nothing to do with fairy lights and Christmas carols, candy canes, gingerbread, eggnog or _It's a Wonderful Life_. I _miss_ my mom, you guys, at Christmas especially," she confesses, ducking her head to blow on her frozen fingertips.

"If…" she pauses, realizing the scene in her rear view is now just a mess of watery, striped glass, Castle's message gone like it was never even there. "If I'd known that was the last one we would ever spend together…"

"Doesn't that teach you something?" asks Ryan passionately, shaking his head a little in frustration, forcing himself to butt in and confront his _very_ private boss in a way he normally never would.

"That everyday is precious? That family is important? That we can make new memories every single day, if you just let it happen? Jenny's aunt is dying of cancer," he tells Kate. "We don't know if she'll even make it through the holidays. But we're setting a place for her at our table in the hope that she'll be with us one last time. Don't miss out on a chance to enjoy this Christmas with the people you love because the ghost of Christmas past is still haunting you, Beckett."

"Wow. You…you guys aren't pulling any punches with this one. What's got you so riled up? Castle promise you his Ferrari for the holidays if you persuade me to go?" she tries to joke.

But no one is laughing.

"We've watched you two… Four years, Beckett, just to make it here. Don't waste anymore time looking back, like Ryan says. Gotta move forwards, honor your mom by living, not dwelling in the past," Esposito tells her, in a rare fit of seriousness.

"Thanks. I…I will certainly think about everything you've said," Kate tells them, more touched than mad that they're poking their noses into her private life, because she realizes they both just want what's best for her, best for both of them.

* * *

They leave her alone after that, biding farewell as they head out with a signed warrant to make a surprise arrest of Donny Munro at his apartment over on Avenue C.

The car is warm enough now that she can ease out of the parking garage and onto the frosty streets with a clear windshield, no trace of Castle's message left on the back window anymore. The moon is out, three-quarters full, a fat gibbous ovoid that helps illuminate the sparkle of frost on the untouched edges of the roadway.

By the time she pulls up to her block it's nearly one in the morning. She gets out of the car and hurries towards the entrance to her apartment building, risking pulling off her glove to dig her keys out of her pocket this time, her shoulders hunched against the cold.

The corner of something sharp catches on her nail, a precise crease in a stiff piece of paper that she can't remember storing in her pocket. She pulls it out once she's inside the relative warmth of her building's foyer, dancing on the spot to warm herself up a little while she waits for the elevator.

She recognizes it as a sheet of the high quality writing paper from the correspondence set she keeps in her desk drawer for contacting the families of victims, part of the watermark still evident on one edge. It has been folded several times over, origami style, into the shape of a small white snowflake, all sharp points and crisp clean edges.

She waits until she's inside the elevator before she unfolds it, fingering each precise fold in the intricate design, having a strong suspicion who might have placed it inside her coat pocket.

The man does nothing by halves.

Inside, in a more flowing script, regular Castle handwriting, is another message from the writer. This one reads:

'_Different worlds, but not so far apart. Hoping for a chance to put some festive joy in your heart.'_

She doesn't know whether to smile or weep. The snowflake, his note, the message on the back of her car; they're all so thoughtful, sentimental and sweet. So _him_, in fact; her ridiculously romantic boyfriend.

When she gets to her own front door, her mind is made up. First thing tomorrow she'll arrange to meet him for coffee somewhere neutral, out of the Precinct, and she'll explain how she's feeling, tell him everything. He deserves to know that her reluctance isn't really about him, or his family, that it's entirely about her and her issues; the grief that still wraps itself around her like a thick black garland this time of year.

Slowly, she's figuring it out.

* * *

She skids on a bright red envelope that she fails to notice lying on the hardwood floor just inside her front door, barely managing to catch herself on the doorjamb to stay upright.

Castle's cursive decorates the front of the rich vellum, a tiny kiss punctuating the underline beneath her name.

'_To:_ _Miss Katherine Beckett'_ the front of the envelope reads. Inside, a formal invitation to spend Christmas with the Castles has been expertly calligraphed on stiff white card stock. An understated gold-embossed Christmas tree decorates the top center position on the invitation card.

'_Your presence is requested at the home of…'_

Her eyes blur over with tears when she sees the effort he's making to woo her into doing this; simply spending the holidays with him like any normal couple.

When her tears clear, it's the _RSVP_ she spots, nestling in the bottom right hand corner just under her thumb; raised letters picked out in festive red ink. It's nearly one-thirty now, but what the hell, if he wants an answer he's going to get one. And after the personal story Ryan shared with her tonight, there really is no time like the present…

_A/N: I think I can almost hear the murderous screams from here! Hey, it's me. I like a good cliffhanger. You should know that by now! :D Happy Thanksgiving for those who celebrate. Happy Thursday for those who don't! Remember - there's no such thing as too much pie! Liv_


	3. Chapter 3 Open The Door To Your Heart

Disclaimer: Santa, I've been a good girl. Honest!

* * *

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 3: Open The Door To your Heart**_

_A/N: Warning: M Rated. Sorry, this story changed rating on me unexpectedly. Hey, it's Caskett, what can I do?_

A key to his place.

She doesn't have one, just like he still doesn't own one to hers. So she stands in the hallway outside the front door to his loft, debating the merits of texting over phoning, or taking the low-tech approach and simply knocking on the goddamn door.

He's a night owl. She knows that much from first hand experience now, has intimate knowledge of his sleeping patterns, his snoring and snuffling, the little moans and grunts she tries to coax into an actual conversation when she wakes to hear him murmuring nonsense words while deep in the throws of a dream.

She loves to watch him sleep, though he'll never hear that from her.

She loves sleeping next to him too, though this is the first time she has allowed herself to get comfortable enough with any man to actually admit that to herself. To admit that settling in next to him, even on the nights they do no more than chat about their day, a case, his writing plans, or just read quietly snuggled up next to one another, fills her with surprising joy; nourishes her. She loves all of that; every precious minute they have spent alone together in his bed or hers, getting to know one another on a whole new level.

Often, when she stays over at his place, she wakes in the wee hours, the sky dip-dyed grey with the coming dawn, the bed cold beside her, a sliver of lamplight bleeding under the door to his office, to the quiet clickety clack of keystrokes on his laptop; the soft, comforting sound only audible if she listens hard enough.

So she wagers that he'll still be awake now, especially after the desolate, troubled look he gave her as the elevators doors closed on him at the Precinct all those hours ago. Not to mention the radio silence he's been maintaining in the meantime. Because that's just not them anymore. A few hours apart, and there are always texts or picture messages exchanged between them; teasing, flirty little missives that say '_I miss you'_ without using those actual words.

He sent her a photo of his hand once, taken under the conference room table at Black Pawn while in the middle of a meeting with the fearsome Paula and a roomful of literary journalists. He attached it to a message that read, _'This is me, pulling you in for a you know what...'_

She blushed when she saw it, and her own hand had migrated involuntarily to touch her face when she read his words.

So she uses the inspiration that springs from that memory, and she positions herself in front of his door, flips the camera on her phone around so she can get in the shot, and then she takes a picture of her boots standing right outside his door.

She debates the message, ends up going with, '_This is just me…x'_

Paired back, simple, honest, a peace offering of sorts.

* * *

A rather long silence ensues in which Kate paces the hall, worrying whether her text was too obscure, or maybe she got it wrong; perhaps he's sleeping after all, what if she wakes Martha, what if…

"_Kate?_"

She spins around when Castle appears at the door, too caught up in her own panicky thoughts to even hear the lock being opened behind her.

He looks sad, or, well, disappointed at least, though his eyes do take on a slightly more hopeful look when he sees the red envelope grasped in her hand.

He's wearing a pair of charcoal grey lounge pants that she particularly loves, the fabric soft to the touch and they hug his ass so well, teamed with a navy v-neck t-shirt that closely follows every contour of his torso. His feet are bare. He has such elegant feet for a man, and she finds it hard to keep her focus on his face, to stop herself from letting her eyes roam all over his body, drinking in the sight of him. She feels her face getting warm and her skin start to prickle just standing in his hall for god's sake. How she lasted four long years without jumping him, she has no idea.

"This I getting to be a habit," he says, trying to play it cool, be clever, nodding between her and his front door.

"At least I'm not soaking wet this time," she fires back, regretting her choice of words instantly when he quirks an amused, suggestive eyebrow at her.

"How disappointing," he replies slowly, looking her over, trying to gauge where they currently sit on the scale of _lovers-in-love_ to _partners-in-law_, as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"You've never disappointed me," Kate says, looking directly into his eyes, her statement offered as an apology.

"I aim to please," he shoots back, bowing theatrically in front of her.

But she takes a step towards him, says, "Rick…don't," with a light shake of her head.

"Don't?" he asks, frowning at her, not sure what she means, thrown by her use of his first name.

"Don't…don't let me off the hook," she asks, determined to fight all her issues in one go – her insecurity about them as a couple, her fear of opening up all the way, of committing, of letting him see her at her worst, her most fearful, her most grief soaked, her most exposed – instead of hiding out in the comfortable corners offered by flirty banter like they usually do.

"Okay," he agrees slowly, nodding, taking her lead. "Then…come in, Kate? It's late…"

"And cold," she agrees, shivering inside her coat.

* * *

He ushers her inside, but heads straight for the kitchen, leaving her to hang her own coat in the closet; no longer seen as just a guest in his home she supposes.

She wants to reach out to him, let him know it's going to be okay, she just needs to talk first. She can see the tension he's carrying in the line of his shoulders, the uncertainty. And she's impatient to touch him, doesn't quite understand this desperate longing, how they survived so many years without the physical comfort their relationship now gives both of them.

"Herbal tea or something stronger?" he asks, filling the kettle while she chooses, the loft dark and comforting around them.

"Just tea, please. Chamomile."

"Eh…I'm not sure if we have…"

He turns to check the pantry.

"In here," says Kate, opening the top cabinet over the stove and pulling out a mixed box of herbal teas.

"How did you…?" he asks, giving her a querying look.

"Martha's secret stash," she whispers, her whole face softening as she brushes his hand with her own when she hands him the box.

And it strikes him, just how comfortable she is in his home, with his family, how far they've come when neither of them was paying attention.

"Rick?"

"Mmm?" he asks, lifting down a couple of mugs.

"Hold me?"

For a fraction of a second the silence is deafening, the air heavy and still.

He stops what he's doing immediately, drops the teaspoon onto the counter with a clatter, ignoring it when it bounces to the floor, spinning around to wrap his arms around her, hugging her so tightly that he picks her up, her feet completely leaving the floor.

"Oh god, Kate," he whispers into her hair. "I missed you. I missed you."

"Shhh," she soothes, her arms tightening around his neck, her cheek pressed up against his. "I'm right here." Then laughing she adds, "And I saw just you a few hours ago, Castle."

"I'm so sorry I pushed," he says, gently placing her back on the floor.

"No. No, you were right to. If we're going to do this properly…" says Kate, roaming his face with her eyes, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I got your messages."

"You did?" he grins, as she nods, grinning back at him.

"Yeah, I…the snowflake was pretty."

"And your car?"

"Yes," she laughs, dropping her face into her hands in embarrassment. "Ryan and Esposito liked that one."

"Oh, no," he groans, slapping his forehead.

But Kate prizes his hand off his face, holds it against her sternum, "They kicked my ass, Castle. Made me see…" she stifles a yawn. "Do you mind if we talk about this in bed? I'm cold."

"You're staying?" he asks, sounding slightly surprised.

"Is that okay? I have an invitation from the Master of the house," she teases, waving the red envelope in front of him.

"Oh, you'd better be fast on your feet, Beckett," he taunts, and she squeals, running away from him towards his bedroom as he chases after her.

* * *

He catches her because she wants him to, his lips hot on her neck, restless, seeking, desperate, and she throws her head back letting him lick and suck at her skin, her arms lifting up to peel off her own shirt before she wraps them around his neck, needing to feel more, needing his warm body pressed up against her own.

He's panting, tugging at her belt, her jeans, then freeing her of her underwear, her bra, until he has her gloriously naked in front of him.

The outline of his erection is clearly visible against the light cotton of his lounge pants. She palms him through the soft fabric, her cheeks and chest flushed and burning with arousal, and he grunts, pressing hard against her.

"I want you so badly," he whispers, licking a line down her neck to her shoulder, fingers flexing against the soft flesh of her hips, drawing her closer.

"Then show me," she whispers back, rising on tiptoe to crush her mouth against his.

He lifts her up, her legs wrap around his waist and she leans right back, lets her hair fall over her shoulders as he braces her upper body and carries her to the bed, drinking her in in stunned amazement.

"I want you naked," declares Kate, tugging on the drawstring of his pants, then pushing her hands up underneath his shirt to roam the smooth planes of his stomach and chest.

She excites him so much every time he gets to see how badly she wants him, how free and uninhibited she is about telling him this now, after all the years spent fighting and denying it. Kate Beckett does more for his ego than any long line of fans at a book signing or any placement on the New York Times Best Seller list ever did.

* * *

She lies back on the bed, waiting for him to strip, watching with hooded eyes that never leave his body.

When his clothes are gone, he crawls onto the mattress above her, immediately letting his hand slip between her legs as she arches up against his seeking fingers, spreading her legs wide for him.

"You lied to me, Detective," he growls huskily, leaning low over her body to brush his lips across her cheekbone as he palms her right breast with his free hand, smoothing his palm over and over her taught nipple, circling. "You _are_ soaking wet," he groans, sliding two fingers inside her as she cries out, shuddering with need.

When he mounts her, she feels like it's the first time all over again. He's so hard and she feels so tight as he pushes all the way up inside of her, their eyes locked, both giving themselves over to the stream of shocking sensations suddenly licking at their bodies, stealing the breath from their lungs.

They move slowly at first. Her mouth is on his bicep; open, kissing, licking, sucking; caressing the smooth, firm skin in time with their gentle rocking motion.

When she whispers, "Roast turkey" against his lips, he smiles so broadly, eyes crinkling, and she mirrors him immediately, quickly surrendering to the passionate intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, a penetration he matches with a deep thrust of his hips.

"Oh god," she moans, digging her nails into his back, holding on as he changes pace, speeds them up, feels her body responding to him, his urgency, turning to liquid beneath him.

"Really?" he pants, grinning, sliding in and out of her, his hips twisting at the apex of each thrust. "Not the ham?"

"Think I've got all the meat I can handle right now," she jokes breathily, and he busts out a raucous laugh, burying his face in her hair and neck.

"That was terrible," he groans, his body shaking all over with laughter at her bad joke, until she cleverly tightens her muscles around him, and he instantly stops laughing.

"Pull it together, Castle," she scolds, smirking, when he starts chuckling again.

And she loves that they can still do this – make love and have fun, laugh together, strip away the angst and worry that really only comes from this meaning too much to both of them. She's never felt so incredibly close to another human being; all because she trusts him, lets him in.

"Oh yeah?" He leers, bringing her back to her joke. "Think you can handle a little more?" teasing, grasping one of her thighs and raising it high on his waist, fingers flirting with the curve of her ass as he shows her everything he's got.

* * *

What happens next is just breathtaking. Kate completely lets go, lies back on the mattress and lets everything she fears just…go, while her partner takes over, showing her how. His body takes control of hers, mastering, stoking, teasing her higher and higher with every rock of his hips, every flick of his tongue and suck of his wet, hot mouth on her breasts, every sweep of his fingertips over her skin making her shiver with the delicious torture of his too-gentle touch.

"Kate, let go for me," he whispers against her jaw, smoothing her arms high above her head, wrists held gently in place against the sheets by his large warm hands, moving deftly inside her.

She comes on a sob of his name, her head thrown back, arching her body in one long, taut line as he slides into her one more time, their bodies slick with sweat, everything tightening, tightening, tightening, and then coming apart around them as they fall together.

Her orgasm is fast, but seriously intense, leaving her heart racing, her mouth dry, her brain dazed by the overload of sensation as she shudders helplessly around him.

Castle is the loud one this time, a hiss of "Oh fuck, yes," spilling from his mouth with his release, rattling in the dark of the bedroom when he comes inside her.

They both collapse, all of the frenzied tension leaving their bodies, over-worked muscles going slack, and Castle rolls to the side, tugging Kate with him until they're spooning horizontally across the bed, naked and glowing.

* * *

"Still want that tea?" he asks eventually, brushing his lips over her shoulder blade several times, before pressing a firm kiss to her skin.

"Kate, you okay? You're quiet."

"Stay," she whispers, drawing his arm tighter around her body, his hand pressed flat to her belly; heavy and warm and comforting.

"Wouldn't want to be accused of being a bad host," he murmurs, fingers stroking her abdomen.

"Rick…" she sighs, a slight warning to her tone.

"What? What is it? Tell me, Kate?" he asks, leaning up on one elbow so that he can see her.

"You're…" she sighs again. "You're not here to wait on me…like…as if I'm a guest."

He doesn't respond immediately, but she can feel him nodding silently behind her from the gentle jostle of his chest against her back, absorbing her point.

"Stay here," she says suddenly, sliding out of bed as he moans in protest, flailing across the mattress to try to grab ahold of any bit of her he can reach.

She evades capture, naturally, leaves him flopping back on the mattress with a loud huff of complaint.

* * *

When she comes back, she has two steaming mugs of tea, deposits them on the nightstand to watch her sacked out lover doze.

Castle cracks open one eye when she eases herself gently onto the bed beside him.

"I brought you this," she says, extending her hand to him, closed into a fist, palm down.

"What is it?" he asks, holding his own hand out beneath hers, as she presses her knuckles against his skin.

"A key. It's…I should have given this to you before now. It's a key to my apartment. I wanted you to have it. It's…you don't have to use it, I just…I wanted to show you that…"

Kate sighs, frustrated with herself, her inarticulacy. She shifts position, takes a breath, and tries again.

"Look it's not that I wasn't _ready_ to spend Christmas with you. It was never about that, Rick, about us."

"It's about your mom," he says quietly, gently settling her against him, as he repositions them both against the heap of pillows at the top of the bed.

"How did…?"

"Hey, I can be an ass sometimes, and I know I was getting on your nerves with the whole Christmas thing. But I'm not completely insensitive. I know how hard this time of year is for you, Kate. I've watched you go through it four times already, don't forget."

"Mmm," she hums, drawing her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top, the sheet loosely draped over both of them. "Sometimes I forget how observant you are, how…_perceptive._"

She smiles gratefully, turns her head to look at him, eyes glittering in the near darkness.

"I was hoping for sensitive. But I'll take perceptive and observant, especially when it comes from the NYPD's best Detective."

"You're sensitive too. You know you are, Castle," she scolds, bumping against him with her shoulder. "Your ego doesn't need any help from me."

"But my ego really likes you," he whines, pitching for more compliments, kissing her bare shoulder.

"Oh really," she drawls, rolling her eyes. "Just your ego?"

"Oh no, you have a whole fan club right here, Beckett," he teases, tugging on her elbow until she falls against him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her, press a kiss to the top of her head as she lies in the cradle of his thighs.

* * *

"We're doing it again," she says quietly, soberly, sitting up to hand him a mug of tea.

"Avoiding?"

She nods.

"Sorry. My fault. Old habit, this banter-avoidance thing we have going."

"I wanted to explain… You are right, it is about my mom. Mostly."

She sips her tea for a few moments, thinking quietly, and then puts the mug aside.

"You said _mostly_," he prompts.

"What? Oh, yes. But it's also about _your_ mom, and Alexis. Even _you_."

"How so?" he asks, feeling a slight chill creep around his heart.

"You're so full of life and joy, and…Castle you're like the human embodiment of the Christmas spirit. And I'm like this wet blanket, this party pooper, raining on your parade."

"The Grinch," he nods, flinching when she pinches his side.

"Wouldn't go that far, but…yeah, in comparison to you."

"But Kate, it doesn't have to be like that. We can tone things down, compromise. Alexis is grown up now anyway. She probably won't want that big of a fuss this year."

"But don't you see? There's no reason you should _have_ to change," she stresses, turning to face him, the sheet twisting between them until he smoothes it out.

"From where I'm sitting there's _every_ reason, Kate. There's _you_," he tells her, sliding his hand under her hair to cup her cheek.

She stares at him, her heart suddenly hammering wildly in the dark, trying to focus when he carries on speaking.

"I meant what I said on that rear window, Kate. I don't want us to spend another Christmas apart. I…I remember last year, saying goodbye to you on the 22nd. Not seeing you again until the 28th. I _hated_ it, and we weren't even together back then."

"You hated it?" she repeats.

"_Yes_. I…I was going through the motions, Mr. Happy, Mr. Festive, like always. But I was worried about you, Kate, wondering where you were, what you were doing, if you were taking care of yourself, whether you were happy or sad...lonely. Don't make me go through that again…not now."

"Roast turkey," she declares confidently, squeezing his hand to stress her answer once more. "Castle, I want roast turkey with you. And I want you to continue with whatever crazy traditions you usually have. But only if Alexis is okay with it. I don't want to intrude…"

"Kate, you're a part of this family now, whether you like it or not, whether you think talk like that is too sentimental, too premature…you're _that_ important to me. And Alexis is old enough and wise enough to see that now."

She purses her lips, fighting the smile that's brought on by his crazy, happy, fierce declaration.

* * *

"My mom and I used to make mince pies together every Christmas Eve, while my dad sneaked off to wrap the gifts he'd bought for us," she says, sharing another one of her personal stories that he loves so much.

"She had this _amazing_ mincemeat recipe, Castle, that she picked up when she and my dad visited Scotland before I was born. It tasted so much better than anything I've ever tasted since."

"You still have the recipe?" he asks, absorbing the joy in her face as she relives this happy memory.

"Yes. In here," she replies, tapping the side of head.

"Then how about we make some together, you and me, new tradition. And Alexis can wrap the gifts she's bought for us?"

"How do you even know she got us anything?" snorts Kate, nudging his side.

"Overheard her talking to my mother."

Kate gasps. "You mean you were _snooping_, Castle," she corrects.

"Maybe just a little," he grins. "So, mince pie making…is that a date, detective?"

"It's a date," agrees Kate, settling in against him as they snuggle down in bed, getting ready to sleep.

"You working tomorrow?" he murmurs, brushing his lips across her spine. "Need the alarm?"

"Nope. We can sleep late."

"What about Kris Kringle?"

"Solved it. One of the other Santas wanted his job at Barneys."

"Oh, that is just _wrong_," he declares with feeling.

"Mmm, no sign of Christmas spirit there," agrees Kate.

"_No_, that you solved it without me," he pouts.

"Well, that's what happens when you leave the Precinct in a huff," teases Kate, toying with his fingers where they rest against her stomach.

"I was _not_ in a huff."

"Okay, you weren't in a huff, Castle. Now sleep. It's after three."

They fall silent, their breathing even and steady as they both relax.

"This is going to be the best Christmas ever," he whispers into the dark, tightening his arm around her middle, mashing the side of his face deeper into the pillow.

"I think you might just be right," murmurs Kate, falling asleep with a smile on her face.

_A/N: Sorry I missed updating this yesterday. Went on a little longer than I expected. Not sure whether to attempt an actual Christmas Day chapter or not. Anyone got any American Christmas traditions they'd like to share with me, or any unusual ones you and your family practice? PM me if you don't want to put them in a review. Castle's going to need some traditions if I'm going to keep this story going. All suggestions welcome. Have a lovely weekend. Liv_


	4. Chapter 4 Preparing For The Big Day

Disclaimer: The elves are taking a vote apparently. Something to do with a naughty list and me adding an M chapter to this story? :D

_A/N: There's a flashback in the second part of this chapter, but I didn't put it in italics because I know that can be annoying if you're reading on your phone. I've dated it instead._

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 4: Preparing For The Big Day_**

**_Monday December 24th_**

He's like a little kid.

It's their last day at work before they stop for a few days, and their caseload it suspiciously light for this time of year. No drunk, argumentative couples beating one another to death over who gets the last of the sherry; no homeless guy frozen like a human popsicle in the snowdrifts that suddenly blanketed New York City two days ago; and no co-workers tumbling out of a twelfth floor window during the office Christmas party, after a bet about who could moon the building opposite, like last year.

Yes, it's just too darn quiet for Kate's liking…apart, that is, from one Mr. Richard Castle.

* * *

"We have to stop at Whole Foods Market on the way home," he reminds her, for the fourth time that afternoon, a rumpled, and entirely too lengthy-looking grocery list clutched in his hand.

He seems to have been adding to it by the hour, his head bobbing down over the sheet of paper whenever inspiration strikes, pen tapping thoughtfully on his lip the rest of the time.

"What on _earth_ could you possibly need now?" asks Kate distractedly, lifting her eyes from the Vacation Request Form she's filling out to ask for New Year's off.

She knows it's late, very last minute, but they got invited to a fancy party that Black Pawn are hosting at Cipriani Downtown, and she's hoping for at least one day off so that she can let her hair down for once, and enjoy ringing in the New Year with her boyfriend for the first time.

"We need more candles, and they have the vegan kind," he tells her, already writing something else on his list.

Kate looks up from the form to study him.

"There are vegan candles? Castle, we're not _eating_ them. What's wrong with the regular kind?"

"Do you _know_ where tallow comes from, Beckett?"

"The middle-ages?" she deadpans.

"Seriously?"

"_No_. But I have a horrible feeling you're about to enlighten me," she lies, being something of a candle aficionado in actual fact.

Because sometimes Kate thinks it's fun to just set him off running and see where he goes with a subject.

"Beef or mutton fat," hisses Castle, and Kate wrinkles up her nose in faux-distaste, humoring him.

"Eww. _No?_" she gasps for effect.

"_Exactly!_ And some of them are even made of spermacerti," he declares.

"Sperma what now?" pipes up Ryan, his head popping up from behind his computer screen like a jack-in-the-box.

Do these guys _ever _stop listening in to their conversations?

"What you talkin' about sperm for?" buts in Esposito, _loudly_, on his way back from the break room with yet another stack of Christmas cookies Mabel in accounting made for them, causing several other curious faces to appear from behind computer screens and file folders.

"We weren't" says Kate dryly, dropping her head back down over the form, trying to end this discussion before it gets any more surreal.

"Spermaceti," repeats Castle, to Kate's chagrin. "Wax from inside the head cavity of the sperm whale. It's sometimes used for candles."

"Eww. Gross," splutters Esposito, spraying a mouthful of cookie crumbs across his desk and computer keyboard. "Think I'd rather talk about sperm."

"Castle, stop bating them. Most candles are made from paraffin or palm wax," Kate tells the boys calmly, betraying knowledge she'd previously kept hidden.

"Rainforests, Beckett," declares Castle, slapping his hand down on her desk in a sign of victory, and then sinking back in his chair, arms crossed. "Exactly my point. We're going vegan."

"You mean you guys aren't having roast turkey?" pipes up Esposito, looking confused. "I thought you'd settled on turkey."

"He means the candles, Javi. _Just_ the candles," repeats Kate, still working on the form, patience wearing thin, rolling her eyes at the silliness happening all around her as she signs the damn thing and prepares to run the gauntlet with Gates.

"There are vegan candles?" asks Esposito, eyebrows rising in amazement, bringing the discussion full circle.

Kate sighs in loud frustration, getting up from her desk. Not this again.

"Apparently," pipes up Ryan, stealing a cookie from Espo's pile. "Castle said so."

* * *

By the time six o'clock rolls round, Castle is pacing the floor, anxious to get away before the store closes. Or a body drops unexpectedly.

"Castle, we have plenty of time," says Kate, pulling on her down coat and then wrapping an extra long scarf twice around her neck.

Because it is freezing outside, bitter, and there is at least a foot of snow lying on the ground. The roads are covered in compacted snow and ice, and Castle seriously tried to get her to ski into work this morning on Alexis' old set of cross-country skis.

"Yeah, not happening, Bjorn," Kate had declared, patting him on the chest before heading downstairs to hail a cab.

So now he's fretting over their preparations, and this year it's Kate's job to calm him down.

"I just want everything to be perfect," her partner confesses, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black pea coat, his face falling like a pouty little boy's because she's not humoring him.

"Hey," she says softly, quickly tipping his chin up to look at her before Gates sees them standing too close. "Stop worrying. It will be," she reassures him, seriously wanting to kiss him right now just to get him to smile. "You and me, mince pie date, remember?" she adds, playfully tugging on his pocket, trying to cheer him up.

She essentially moved in for the duration of the holidays on Saturday 22nd. Clothes, gifts, a couple of store cupboard ingredients she deemed essential to her Christmas recipes, and a few sentimental tree ornaments she's hoping to hang on their Christmas tree.

Alexis got home from college the day before that, with a rolling suitcase full of dirty laundry and a big beautiful smile on her face. Kate knows this because she was there to welcome her, Castle's idea for making things go as smoothly as possible this Christmas. Kate had argued that they needed time alone, but he wouldn't hear of it. And now she's glad, actually. She spent the morning doing laundry with Alexis and catching up on her dorm gossip, while Castle headed uptown on some top-secret shopping mission.

* * *

**_Friday December 21__st_**

"She's here! She's here!" he shouts from the office, socked feet skidding across the hardwood floor in his haste to answer the front door.

Kate was in the en suite bathroom, plucking her eyebrows in his scarily magnified, brightly illuminated mirror, while Castle was pretending to write next door, hovering, unable to leave her alone for more than a minute.

Since she agreed to spend Christmas with him and his family, he's been strangely clingy, even for a guy taken to such sentimental bouts as Richard Castle.

When she comes out into the living area, her partner has his daughter scooped up into a giant bear hug, and he's twirling her around just inside the front door, while Alexis squeals with delight. Her suitcase and purse are abandoned out in the hall, along with a large bag full of wrapped gifts.

Castle finally deposits Alexis on the floor, and they both sway a little, giddy and thrown off kilter by too much spinning. They giggle and clutch at one another, trying to stay upright.

Kate is leaning against the bookcase, quietly watching the scene, not wanting to intrude on their reunion, but not wanting to appear standoffish either. This is the first real chance Alexis will have to see how she and her dad are together; how much they've evolved into this close couple since Alexis has been away at college. Kate has never even spent a night under the same roof as the girl since she and Castle started dating, so this Christmas will be uncharted territory for all of them.

"Kate, hi," Alexis finally says, noticing her when she straightens up from collecting her purse off the floor, face flushed and still grinning.

"Welcome home, Alexis," says Kate, cringing inwardly at how that sounds once it's out of her mouth. "Sorry, I meant that it's lovely to see you. Since this is _your_ home, obviously," she stammers out a little awkwardly.

"Lovely to see you too, Kate," says Alexis, giving her dad's girlfriend a hug, easing some of the tension Kate has been feeling about today.

The girl suddenly looks even more grown-up and self-assured than she did before, and if Kate were any less of a woman she could feel intimidated by this intelligent, beautiful young woman who captured her partner's heart first.

Kate sees Castle noticing his daughter's poise too, and she can tell exactly what he's thinking.

"Castle, why don't you take Alexis' things upstairs while we make some hot chocolate?" she suggests, keen to get a little girl time with Alexis by herself.

He watches her for a second, suspicious at being kicked upstairs in his own home. But then she chases him with her hands, eyes soft and pleading.

"Go on. Shoo. We want a little girl time without you butting in."

Then she gets closer to him so that only he can hear her.

"Five minutes, Rick," she tells him quietly, squeezing his arm, trying to reassure him that she knows what she's doing. "Please?"

* * *

When he leaves them alone, Alexis settles on a stool at the counter, apparently happy to let Kate flit around her kitchen making the hot chocolate while she watches.

"So, how does it feel to be back?" asks Kate, opening a bag of bittersweet chocolate chips, and then firing up one of the gas burners to warm the milk.

"Okay, I guess," she says a little guardedly. "I'm looking forward to Christmas."

"I remember my first Christmas home from college," Kate tells her. "I was so looking forward to going home, to seeing my folks, and doing all the stuff we usually did together over the holidays."

"You sound as if you were disappointed?" asks Alexis, curious, her forehead crinkling with a frown.

"I was…a little. I mean it wasn't my parent's fault. They just did what they always did. It just felt…claustrophobic being back home, being the kid again. I'd just had all these weeks of freedom, living across the country, away from home for the first time, and then suddenly I was back in my old room, and…"

"You were expected to be their little girl again?" she asks, catching Kate's eye, decoding the message she's trying to give her.

"Yes," nods Kate quietly, her eyes flitting upstairs to where she knows Castle is probably hiding out, straining to overhear them.

"My dad?" asks Alexis, following Kate's gaze.

"Yes, and I didn't have our new situation to contend with either."

Alexis nods thoughtfully, acknowledging Kate's point.

"All I'm saying is…give him a little latitude to fuss over you. He wants this to go well…_so badly_. And I know you haven't always…that you didn't think I was right for him. And for a long time I probably wasn't. But, that's all in the past. We…we've been really good for one another these past months. Alexis. He…he…"

Kate struggles to find the right words to reassure Castle's daughter, without actually telling her that she's in love with her dad, when she hasn't even told him that yet. Not in so many words anyway.

"I only want the best for him. And for you," she settles on. "So I hope you're okay with this? Me being here for Christmas? Because I told your dad that I didn't want to intrude, but he kind of…"

"_Insisted?_" suggests Alexis, with a knowing smirk on her face.

"Yes," admits Kate, smiling back with relief, stirring the pan of warming milk before a skin can form on the surface.

"Yeah, he's really good at that when there's something he wants badly enough. And believe me, he wanted this," she smiles shyly at Kate. "He called me weeks ago to ask if I was okay with it."

"He did?" asks Kate, a little surprised, since he only asked her once Thanksgiving was out of the way. "And you…?"

"I told him I was totally okay with it. I want him to be happy too. And you make him happy, Kate. Last year he was miserable."

"Yes, he told me about that. I'm sorry. I hope it didn't ruin things."

"He's good at putting on an act when it counts, but I could tell. He was worried about you. He missed you. I'm glad things are different this year."

"Me too."

* * *

Loud footsteps on the staircase to the left of the kitchen remind them both that Kate's boyfriend and Alexis' dad isn't the most patient of men at times, as he clomps down the stairs extra heavily to give them fair warning of his approach.

"Hey dad," says Alexis cheekily. "You catch all of that?"

Castle's eyes fly to Kate's in panic. But his partner is laughing too; eyes dancing, so breathtakingly beautiful to watch that it stuns him all over again.

"Okay. I thought this was going to be fun, having you two around. But I changed my mind already. The sooner your dad gets here the better, Kate. Even things up a little in the testosterone department."

He mouths '_thank you_' at Kate, while she pours out three mugs of rich, dark, milky hot chocolate, adding a little cinnamon and a small pile of mini marshmallows to the top of each mug.

"You love being outnumbered by us," grins Kate, handing him one of the mugs as he settles down on the couch, making space for her to sit next to him.

He leans into her side, fingers curling over her knee, while Alexis watches them from one of the leather armchairs, her eyes flitting up from her mug every now and then to observe them through a cloud of chocolate-scented steam.

"I love _you_," he whispers against her hair, before pressing a kiss to her temple, and Kate's face heats up, her heart suddenly racing, all too aware of his daughter's eyes on them.

Kate places her hand over his on top of her knee, and squeezes lightly in silent acknowledgement, before letting go. Her gesture seems to be enough for now, because she feels him completely relax against her side, heavy and warm, his arm settling across her shoulders.

"So, who's up for a little Christmas tree shopping this afternoon?" he asks both women.

"I have to go into the Precinct for a couple of hours," Kate tells him. "But I can be done by three."

"Great. Alexis and I will meet you at SoHo Trees on 6th at Spring. I know the guy there. He always keeps the extra special trees aside for his regulars."

"Of course he does," grins Kate, because she expects nothing less from him by now. "But that's like eight blocks from the loft, and there's more snow forecast this afternoon. Are we really going to drag a tree back through a blizzard?"

He looks at her as if she just asked him to climb Kilimanjaro in his bare feet.

"_No_," he says slowly, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "_We_ pick out the tree and Lenny will deliver it tonight."

"Of course he will," smiles Kate, rolling her eyes in a 'silly me' action, finding yet another example of how her life has changed since she's been with Castle.

No dragging a beat-up, half-denuded tree back to her cold, empty apartment all by herself this year. The realization warms her up from the inside.

"Good. Then that's settled," says Castle, running his hand up and down Kate's thigh. "SoHo Trees just after three," he repeats to his girls, smiling so much his face must ache.

**_A/N: Sorry I've been quiet for a couple of days. I want to sincerely thank everyone who shared their family Christmas traditions with me. I'll certainly be incorporating a few into the story, which, yeah, is stretching out as usual. Liv_**


	5. Chapter 5 Christmas Tree Oh Christmas

Disclaimer: The elf vote has been delayed by a union dispute apparently! :D

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 5: Christmas Tree Oh Christmas Tree_**

_A/N: Festive fluff alert!_

Kate is out of the Precinct by five after three.

Her 'Castle countdown clock' ticked down the seconds on her computer screen, while she signed off on a warrant request for Ryan; a fancy dress store they want to search in connection with the Kris Kringle case so they can tie up a few loose ends.

She bites the end of her pen as she watches the second hand sweep up towards twelve, and the clock miraculously tick over to three. Time to meet her partner and his daughter for a little Christmas tree shopping. A new experience round every corner these days. This Christmas quickly turning into the gift that keeps on giving.

* * *

"Off so soon, Detective?"

Captain Gates strident voice catches her in the act of shrugging into her coat, her red scarf dangling limply from one hand. Her heart sinks, and she whirls around to face her boss, feeling guilty even although her shift was officially up eighty-five seconds ago.

But Gates just laughs when she sees Kate's panicked expression, this her idea of a joke apparently.

"Just kidding," she says, looking a little giddy, making the image of creepy little Gemini dolls swim in front of Kate's eyes. "Have fun doing whatever it is you're rushing off to…what _are_ you rushing off to do, Detective?" she asks, pinning Kate in place with her friendly curiosity.

_Holy crap!_

"We're…uh…that is, _I'm_ going to pick out a Christmas tree, Sir," she stutters, praying Gates won't pick her up on the 'we' part.

"A tree? Oh, how exciting," she beams, as Kate stares at the woman, beginning to wonder if her boss might actually be drunk…in the middle of the afternoon.

"Yes, and I hear more snow is due, so I should really…" she hints, jerking her head towards the elevator.

"You know I used to love going with my parents to this little Christmas tree lot downtown," she tells Kate, oblivious to her desire to leave quickly. "Now, where was that again?" she muses, finger tapping her nose.

Just at that Kate's phone rings, and she glances at the screen on her cell. It's Ryan.

"Excuse me a second," she tells Gates, wandering away from her as far as seems appropriate, wondering where Ryan actually is, since he was sitting at his desk all of a couple of minutes ago. "Hey, Ryan. What's up?"

"Tell Gates that Lanie needs to see you in the morgue, or you'll be stuck there all afternoon. She's as bored as we are. I think she might even have opened that box of chocolate liqueurs ADA Coutts-Martin sent over."

"Thanks, Ryan. You're a star. Oh and Merry Christmas to you and Jenny. Tell her we'll see you guys on the 26th," she whispers, hanging up.

When she turns around, Gates is still hovering, examining the little parade of elephants on Kate's desk as if this is the first time she's ever noticed them.

"Sir, I…that was…"

Kate hates lying. But a deep breath and an image of Castle waiting for her down in Soho, bouncing on his toes with excitement at the thought of them choosing a tree together, pushes her over that moral line.

"Lanie needs me in the morgue. Gotta run. Merry Christmas!" she calls out, quickly walking towards the elevators before Gates can ask why on earth she's off to the morgue now, when there's no body for them to look at.

* * *

When Kate gets out of the cab, she can hear Castle calling her name before she even pays the fare.

He's by himself, wearing that black pea coat that looks so good on him, a navy and white plaid scarf tied around his neck. And he's jogging towards her, sliding in the snow, cheeks red from the cold, with an amazing, happy, happy smile on his face.

Kate turns away from paying the driver just in time for him to reach her. She holds out her arms, and he picks her up and swings her around just like he did with Alexis that morning, telling her, "Let our first Christmas tradition begin", while she laughs, clinging on tight, her face pressed into his neck.

Kate squeals with Castle when they nearly topple over on the slippery sidewalk, begging him to put her down before one or both of them break something.

"Where's Alexis?" she asks breathlessly, little puffs of vapor curling into the air with every labored breath, like steam escaping a singing kettle.

"I sent her on ahead. The advance guard. She's got a great eye for a shapely Christmas tree."

"Covert reconnaissance. I like it," nods Kate in approval, happy to play along.

"And besides, I wanted you all to myself for a moment," he tells her, tugging her behind a springy wall of mesh-wrapped evergreens.

Kate grins at him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. "Is that so, Mr. Castle?"

Snow has started to fall; tiny glittering flakes that spin and dance through the chill air, catching the last of the low winter's sun, sparkling like diamonds on their slow drift to earth. It's not heavy enough yet to add to the compacted snow on the ground, but it's romantic and so Christmassy that Kate feels as if she's in the middle of a fairytale.

"Uh-huh. All to myself," he nods, touching her jaw so delicately, angling her mouth just so, as he presses his cold lips against her warm ones, both of them moaning at the shock of the delicious contrast, before he slides his tongue into her mouth, cold noses nudging.

"Merry Christmas, Kate," he whispers, lips brushing hers, his tone so reverent, so grateful, that it makes her toes curl.

* * *

"Hey, dad, do you think we need mistletoe…_oh!_" exclaims Alexis, appearing from out of nowhere. "Guess not," she adds, quickly turning her back as Kate pulls away from Castle, looking guilty and a little embarrassed.

"Did you find us a tree, pumpkin?" asks Castle, totally unfazed to be caught making out in the street with his girlfriend by his teenage daughter.

Kate goes to walk after Alexis, but he catches her hand and pulls her back against his chest.

"Castle!" she moans, trying to push away from him, her cheeks still baring a light blush.

"Kate. She's a big girl. And we're not doing anything wrong. So, let's just…be us, okay? I don't want us to change who we are because my daughter is around. That would be tantamount to lying."

"I know, but…"

"No buts. We're all living under the same roof. I'm not going to stop touching you and kissing you and…"

"Hold that thought, Romeo. We _can_ tone it down a little. Just so that everyone feels comfortable. Be reasonable, Rick," she groans, squirming when he attacks her neck with his mouth, his hand slipping under the back of her coat to grab her ass.

"This your idea of reasonable?" she giggles, twisting in his grasp.

"No. This is my idea of enjoying my first Christmas with my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

"I mean it. Don't make her feel uncomfortable. We can still…_you know_, behind closed doors. There's no need to gross her out in public."

"Since when did you get so good at this parenting thing?"

"Watching you make mistakes," she fires back at him, giving his chest a little shove so that he slips in the snow, and then running away laughing.

"Alexis, wait up!" she cries, linking arms with the girl and hurrying them both into the maze of Christmas trees.

He chases after them, of course, but both women duck into another aisle of evergreens, hiding stealthily behind the tall firs, arm-in-arm, giggling like little kids.

* * *

They give up their hiding place when they hear him complaining from one row over that they're spoiling his fun.

"Dad, over here," calls Alexis, waving to him from behind a particularly bushy tree, Kate still attached to her side.

"There you are," he says, relief softening his features. "I thought I'd lost you."

"It's a Christmas tree lot in SoHo, Castle. Not the Ramble in Central Park," she points out, giving in and allowing him to hold her hand when he surreptitiously chases after it with chilled fingers.

"I found us the perfect tree," Alexis tells him proudly, leading them over to a tall, fat specimen, dark bluish-green needles shining healthily. "If…if that's okay with you, Kate?" she asks shyly, checking with the detective.

"Hey, your dad says you're the expert. Last time I took a tree home it shed all over my floor within two days. I was still finding jaggy needles in my shoes come March."

Castle tugs her up against his side, and, with that simple gesture of closeness, she can tell that he wants to erase every bad memory of her past Christmases alone by making this one so special for all of them.

"Looks great, Alexis," he tells his daughter. "Let's go speak to Lenny, and then we can go home," he adds, linking arms with his daughter, all three of them wandering over to see 'Lenny the tree guy', as he's known locally.

* * *

"Mr. Castle, seasons greetings. Buon natale!" booms the chunky Italian, shaking Castle's hand briskly. "And Miss Alexis, so grown up," he beams, giving Alexis a loud kiss on both cheeks.

Kate hovers beside Castle, watching them. His arm is around her waist and he propels her forward as his hand slides to the small of her back.

"And who is _this beauty_?" asks Lenny, smiling broadly at Kate. "Che bella donna!" he declares, bowing to kiss the back of her hand with exaggerated reverence.

"Grazie mille," replies Kate, smiling politely. "Molto generoso. Mi chiamo Kate."

"E parla Italiano anche! Perfetto! Oh, you have to marry this one, Ricky," he tells a beaming Castle, while Kate flushes bright pink and Alexis looks down at her boots in discomfort. "Because if you don't, I will," he warns the writer, slapping his back and laughing heartily.

"This is my…this is Kate," Castle tells Lenny, smiling as the two shake hands. "And, back off, Lenny. She's already spoken for," he joshes with the tree seller, looking so unbelievably proud of his girlfriend.

* * *

Kate and Alexis withdraw to one side, letting Castle settle up with Lenny and arrange for the delivery of their tree.

"You know he was only joking, right?" says Kate, when a couple of minutes pass and Alexis seems way too quiet, compacting a little mound of fresh snow with the toe of her boot over and over.

"You mean the marriage thing? Yeah, I know," she replies a little unconvincingly.

"Because we're no where near…"

"Kate," Alexis stops her. "You don't have to explain. My…my dad is in love with you. Anyone can see that. He's never looked this happy…_ever_. If you guys do eventually get married, I'm okay with that. More than."

Kate doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't even know if she wants to get married. But if she were to, she's certain it would be to this wonderful, generous, big hearted man.

"What are you two ladies gossiping about?" asks Castle, his timing perfect as ever.

"_Nothing!_" say the two women in unison, looking at one another with secret smiles on their faces, their bond growing stronger already.

"You know I _will_ get it out of one of you," he warns them both, eyes darting from one smiling face to the other.

"Good luck with that, Castle," says Kate, grinning. "Right, Alexis?"

"Yeah, dad. You have _no_ chance," his daughter tells him confidently.

"I _will_ break you," he mutters to himself, walking away to hail a cab on the corner of Spring Street, as the girls laugh at his retreating back.

* * *

When Kate goes to climb into the taxi behind Alexis, Castle stops her with a hand to her arm, drawing her body against his.

Then he whispers in her ear, "See how long you can hold out on me when I withdraw sexual favors."

But Kate just laughs at him, turning to pat his frozen cheek.

"Oh baby, don't make threats you have no chance of carrying out. Santa'll put you on the naughty list," she declares, kissing his cheek, before sliding into the cab next to his daughter.

And really, he couldn't care less what they were whispering about, because they're ganging up on him already, which means they're getting on better than he ever dared hope.

This _is_ going to be the best Christmas ever, he tells himself, joining them like sardines in the back of the yellow cab, feeling entirely blessed as he tells the driver to take them home.

_A/N: Thank for the amazing reviews guys! I'm so grateful. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Glad this little tale is getting everyone into the Christmas spirit. Liv_


	6. Chapter 6 Deck The Halls

Disclaimer: Still no decision from Santa...and NO sneak peeks from ABC either! Grrr!

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 6: Deck The Halls_**

Kate changes into a loose pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt of Castle's as soon as they get back to the loft. The shirt is a worn soft grey one with the silhouette of a high-powered rifle on the front, and the words, '_The hardest part about the Zombie apocalypse will be pretending I'm not excited' _printed above and below the firearm.

Kate thinks it's funny, just so _him_, while Castle is worried he's just lost one of his favorite shirts forever.

He leaves the bedroom with her reassurances that they can _share_ the sweatshirt, since she'll only ever wear it at his place, and with that comforting thought – _he's sharing clothing with Kate freakin' Beckett!_ – ringing in his happy little ears, he heads down to the giant storage locker in the basement of the building to bring up several boxes of Castle family Christmas decorations.

* * *

The tree arrives an hour later, borne into the loft by Lenny and his good-looking son, Mario, with Eduardo the doorman bringing up the rear.

Alexis offers the men eggnog, blushing adorably when she hands Mario his glass, while Castle chats amiably with the three guys, exchanging plans for the holidays and then regaling them with an exaggerated account of his involvement in the dead Santa homicide.

"Ah, ecco che arriva la bella detective," declares Lenny, chuckling when he sees Castle's over-sized sweatshirt dwarfing Kate's slender frame.

"We're about to decorate the tree, so…" Kate tells the men, making excuses for her appearance.

She follows Alexis over to the corner by the window to begin helping with the lights. There are several strands, all neatly wrapped around their original plastic frames, preventing the cables from getting tangled up.

"I know your dad didn't do this," says Kate, plugging in one of the strings of lights to test for faulty bulbs. "He doesn't have the patience. _So_…this must be your handiwork?" she asks the girl, and Alexis nods and smiles.

"He's great at the decorating part. Not so much at the clearing up afterwards. Always said it makes him too sad to see everything being packed away."

"Too lazy, you mean," declares Kate, giving Alexis a friendly nudge. "Let's watch him try to wriggle out of helping this year with both of us to pin him down."

They can hear the men laughing raucously over by the kitchen, and Kate wonders how long before they leave so that Castle can put the tree in position and they can begin to trim it together.

Her heart is beating a little faster than normal, and she feels a thrill of excitement buzzing through her at the prospect of doing this with him for the very first time. She wonders why she's not scared, ready to bolt from such a domestic scene, a scene she would have scoffed at not two years ago. Somehow it seems like one of the most intimate things they've ever done together; decorate a home in preparation for celebrating Christmas with his family and her dad. If someone had told her last year that this is where they would be now, she would never have believed them.

* * *

"You okay?" asks Alexis, startling her out of her introspection, passing her a garland to unravel.

"Uh…yeah. Yes. Great actually. I was just thinking how lucky I am," she tells the girl, in a bout of complete candor.

"Lucky?" asks Alexis, her porcelain-smooth brow wrinkling.

"To be here…with you guys for the holidays," Kate says, glancing over at Castle with a wistful look on her face.

Alexis nods thoughtfully, absorbing the information Kate has just shared with her. She doesn't say anymore for a couple of minutes.

"You're in love with him."

Her statement comes out of the blue, after several moments of heavy silence, no hint of a question in her comment.

"I…uh…wow!" says Kate, blowing out a long breath.

"It's okay. I won't say anything. I know you haven't told him yet," says Alexis, flicking her eyes over to where her dad is still clowning around with Lenny and Mario.

"But how do you even…?"

"Because we'd have to scrape him off the ceiling if you had. I just…I wanted to check, because when you look at him…"

"When I look at him…?" asks Kate expectantly, waiting for Alexis to finish her point, her mouth suddenly dry.

"It's totally written all over your face," she grins, handing Kate another string of lights to test.

* * *

Castle finally gets rid of their guests, and then the serious work of decorating the tree and the loft can begin.

"No, dad. Right a bit," Alexis tells him, waving her hand to her own right.

"But that's _left_," huffs Castle, trying to edge the enormous tree in the direction his daughter is indicating without tipping the whole thing over, puffing and panting as he does so.

"Castle, just do what your daughter tells you," Kate pipes up, sticking her tongue out at him from her spot on the floor, where she's surround by labelled storage boxes.

"Oh god, now there's two of them," he moans, rubbing his eyes, and then making a show of covering his ears. "Trouble in stereo."

"Okay, great. Right there is perfect. Focus, dad! Now go get the step ladders," commands Alexis, waving her hand over towards the stairwell, as she buries her head in a box of ornaments, "while we decide what goes where."

"Do this dad, get that dad," he mutters to himself, as he wanders off to do Alexis' bidding.

Kate gets up off the floor, brushing herself down, and then she follows him over to the stairs.

"Oh Castle?" she sings, her voice so warm, dripping honey, that he spins around so fast he almost trips over his own feet. "Are you…feeling…a little _tense_?" she teases, tugging on his belt to bring him closer, her free hand sliding up his chest.

He swallows deeply, throat bobbing vigorously, as he watches her get so friendly with him that he can feel the heat radiating off her body.

"A little," he croaks out, in answer to her question, eyes following the path of her hand as it moves over his heart.

"Because I was thinking," she whispers, her lips just barely crazing his ear so that her voice sends shivers throughout his entire body. Even his nipples go hard.

"Yes?" he gulps, waiting with bated breath for whatever sinful, dirty suggestion he hopes she has for him now.

"That a little Christmas music might liven things up," she says loudly into his ear, making him jump back away from her, startled.

"You two are _mean_," he tells them, when Alexis starts laughing at him along with Kate. "I had no idea it would be like this when you got together," he grumbles.

"Don't be such a baby, Rick. Stop whining and come help us dress the tree," Kate tells him, taking his hand and leading him back to the fragrant evergreen.

Because while the idea of it was nice, turns out three might be a crowd when only two of you have been decorating your Christmas tree for the last eighteen years, and Kate is perceptive enough to see that there might be a few adjustments needed to accommodate this new dynamic.

* * *

Once the lights are strung and working, the girls settle into a routine, passing ornaments up to Castle one-by-one, turnabout. He starts at the top of the tree, letting them direct him to the branches where they want him to hang each one.

There's a real mixture of ornaments, garlands, tinsel, and other collectibles in the boxes, all carefully wrapped and swaddled in tissue, courtesy of Alexis. Some of them are store bought; fancy little crystal and glass affairs from Castle's various book tours overseas and around the country; and some of them commemorate Alexis' early life; while others are homemade, now a little battered from years of repeated display, making them just that little more precious to the designer herself and her proud dad.

"What about this one?" asks Kate, grinning as she holds up a small, handmade, conical Santa Claus, hoping for yet another Castle family story.

The little cardboard figure has a beard and fur trim around his little felt hat that's made out of cotton balls, and there's glitter stuck to the toes of his black boots in lieu of snow, the red Sharpie used to color his jacket and pants now a little faded with age to a warm pink.

"He's adorable," says Kate, dangling the cheery little ornament from the end of her finger.

Castle smiles at his embarrassed daughter, before pulling her in for a hug.

"Preschool Christmas craft project," he tells Kate, giving her a loving look for showing such interest in Alexis. "There _was_ a matching Mrs. Claus at one time, as I recall. But she…uh…had a little _accident_…with G.I. Joe," he confesses.

"G.I…? I'm guessing this '_accident_' wasn't Alexis' fault?" asks Kate, arching an eyebrow at Castle.

"Uh…no," he agrees, shaking his head.

Alexis sighs and takes up the story.

"Dad attempted to parachute G.I. Joe onto my Christmas grotto scene using one of his silk handkerchiefs," she tells Kate, with a straight face and a twinkle in her eye. "But he misjudged the doll's terminal velocity, and…"

"_Action figure_," corrects Castle sternly.

"Long and short…G.I. Joe overshot the landing zone," continues Alexis, ignoring her dad's interruption. "Ended up taking out two elves, a reindeer, and poor Mrs. Claus. Santa was devastated," says Alexis, taking the surviving ornament from Kate to inspect it. "I made dad pay for rehab, of course. Santa was in there until Easter dealing with his loss."

Kate has her hand over her mouth by the time Alexis finishes her sad, grave little tale, trying desperately hard not to laugh. Castle is watching Alexis with a mixture of remorse and pride on his face.

"You guys are too much," declares Kate, getting up off the floor to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. "I can see where Martha gets her acting skills from," she throws over her shoulder.

"Chicken and egg," Castle yells after her.

* * *

There are a couple of personalized ornaments from Alexis' very early childhood; a wooden snowflake with 'Baby's 1st Christmas' and 'Alexis 1994' painted on it, and a pink plaid-covered rocking horse with her name and the year inscribed on the rocker.

Kate gingerly unwraps these, and hands them to Alexis to hang on the tree herself, sitting back on her heels to give her space.

"These were from my mom," she tells the detective, ducking her head shyly to finger the personal mementos from a Christmas long ago, when she still had two parents to fuss over her beneath a twinkling Christmas tree.

Castle leaves them alone for a moment, disappearing into his office, before coming back into the room with two small boxes in his hand. He gives one box to Kate and hands the other one to Alexis.

"What is this…?" asks Kate, frowning at the small white cardboard box resting in her palm.

"Open it and you'll find out. You know for a detective you can sometimes be surprisingly…"

"Don't finish that sentence, Castle, if you know what's good for you," interrupts Kate, glancing over at Alexis, who is in the process of opening her own box.

When she gets the lid off, there, nestled in a cloud of tissue, are two brand new tree ornaments.

Alexis is already holding hers up, laughing, and then she goes over to give her dad a hug.

"What is it?" asks Kate, blushing at the gift she can't quite bring herself to take out of the privacy of the packaging she's holding.

"It's a personalized dorm room door," the girl squeals, holding up a small wooden door, with 'Columbia', Alexis' name, and the year printed on it, for Kate to see. "Thanks dad," she grins, hanging it on one of the few bare branches.

"What does _yours_ say?" Alexis asks Kate, turning away from the tree.

"Eh…there are two in here," she says, blushing furiously as she lifts the first oval-shaped ornament out of the box to show Alexis.

One side depicts two pairs of interlinked handcuffs lying against a silver background. When she turns it over, the words "_Our First Christmas 2012_" are printed on the back.

The second one is white with navy blue printing, and Kate swallows hard when she sees that it says 'I love my detective', with the love part represented by a red heart. The reverse side is black, and reads 'naughty girls get better toys'. A sprig of holly and a pair of cuffs adorn this design too.

Kate doesn't know where to look when Alexis takes the ornaments from her to get a better look at them.

Castle is sitting quietly nearby with his hand pressed over his mouth, watching Kate, trying to gauge her reaction to these little festive tokens.

Alexis is unfazed by both of them, and she simply goes over to hang them on the tree, while Kate gets up and walks off into the office without saying another word.

* * *

She's sitting on the bed, holding a box of her own, when Castle enters the bedroom after knocking lightly on the doorframe.

"Have I just been a class A jerk?" he asks, sinking down beside her on the comforter.

She looks pensive, away in her own world, and it takes her a second or two to answer him.

"What? _No!_" she says, shaking her head and taking his hand, placing it on her thigh and holding on. "No. The tree ornaments were really sweet…if a little embarrassing. Naughty girls? _Really_, Castle? You couldn't have waited to give me that one in private?" she asks, bumping him with her shoulder.

"Still had to go on the tree eventually. And she's a cool kid," he adds, meaning Alexis.

"Yes, she is. Pretty special too. She must miss her mom this time of year," she adds, and the sentiment is out of her mouth before she can filter it, because she knows that it's probably not even true; she's projecting.

"Not so much as you might think, actually," Castle explains. "It's been just the two of us, and my mother of course, for as long as she's been aware of Christmas. But you…" he says, squeezing her hand, "you must miss your mom a lot, Kate. You have nineteen years of Christmas memories to hold onto, but also to ache for."

Kate nods, biting her lip, her free hand pressing down on the box that rests in her lap, the lid and sides decorated with a holly and ivy design.

"How can I help?" asks Castle, kissing her on the side of the head, before slipping his arm around her shoulders to draw her up against him, heads pressed together. "Talk? Don't talk? You let me know what you need. Okay? I'm always here for you, Kate," he tells her, kissing her temple once more, and then getting up off the bed to give her some space.

* * *

He's crossing the threshold of the bedroom when he hears her speak.

"Wait…? Castle, can I hang these on the tree?" she asks, the words tripping out of her mouth quickly and nervously as she hold up the festive box.

He turns back immediately, and hurries over to kneel on the floor in front of her.

"Kate, this is _our_ tree," he tells her earnestly, his hands covering hers where they rest on top of the box. "You can hang raw sausages, used coffee cups, or…or your underwear on it, for all I care. Oooo, that could be kinky," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows comically, earning himself a light slap on the chest from Kate and the grin he was so hoping for.

"I _want_ you to make it _ours_. That's what those silly ornaments were all about, to help us start some new traditions of our own."

Kate nods, her dark eyes roaming his features, feeling deep gratitude for her partner's generosity and understanding.

"I knew that those boxes would be full of our old memories, of me and Alexis and our past Christmases together, and I want you to feel at home here, Kate. So if you have ornaments you want to hang on the tree, I think that would be pretty amazing," he tells her, getting up off his knees to press a soft kiss to her mouth.

He holds out his hands to help her up from the bed.

"How about we go hang them together, and you can share a few of the stories behind them with us? Hmm?" he offers, as they go back to the living room together to rejoin Alexis in front of the twinkling tree.

_A/N: More lovely, heart-warming reviews! You are all amazing. Thank you. Liv_


	7. Chapter 7 A Christmas Tale

Disclaimer: Don't you just hate mischievous elves! And maybe ABC Publicity...just a little.

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 7: A Christmas Tale**_

_Evening of December 21st_

When they go back out into the living area together, Castle leading the way, holding on lightly to Kate's fingers, Alexis has Christmas music playing on the iPod dock and the lights turned down low. The playlist is Castle's creation; a festive mix of traditional carols, classical music, Christmas classics, and modern holiday tunes. There are even a few Disney classic thrown in for good measure.

Frank Sinatra is crooning the opening lines to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" so casually and effortlessly, his voice so warm and smooth that Kate thinks it must be the musical equivalent of taking a stroll in the park.

Castle's daughter hands them both a glass of red wine, and then she retreats to the couch with a cup of spiced eggnog; a fresh grating of nutmeg and a pinch of cinnamon coating the top of the creamy liquid like a fine dusting of fingerprint powder.

* * *

"What's in the box?" she asks Kate, as the detective sits down next to her on the leather couch, placing the festive patterned box on the coffee table in front of them.

"I brought some ornaments with me…and I didn't want to presume, but I thought that maybe we could…"

"Hang them on the tree? Great!" says Alexis enthusiastically, sliding her thickly-socked feet off the couch and onto the floor so that she can inspect the ornaments Kate has brought with her.

Kate realizes in that single moment, from Alexis' natural gesture of curiosity, how much she has to adjust her thinking to be a part of these people, to be sharing their home and lives with them. They are so open and giving, so generous of spirit, wealth and time – Martha, Alexis and Rick, all. Not one single day has gone by since she met Richard Castle, apart from the times when _she_ hurt him or pushed him away, that he hasn't tried do the very best for her, selflessly, sometimes even at the expense of his own beloved daughter.

They might all be only-children, but she hopes one day to learn to share as well as Castle and Alexis have taught one another to.

So she takes the lid off her box, and she pushes it towards Alexis so that the girl can explore the contents for herself.

* * *

Castle squeezes his butt down in between the two women, wiggling from side-to-side to make room, and both make half-hearted noises of complaint, but settle in against him anyway. He tugs Kate's legs up over his lap, so that her back rests against the cushions on the arm of the couch, and she can watch Alexis and answer the girl's inevitable questions.

"Oh wow! Now this one _must_ have a story," she says, holding up a delicate glass bauble on a fine gold braid.

The ornament is hand-painted, the background a pale, mint green color, and one of Edgar Degas' ballerinas is pirouetting across surface. The recreation of one of the French artist's most famous paintings is of startlingly high quality, and Alexis clearly loves it, keeps turning it around carefully in her hands to inspect more of the detail.

"My mom went travelling in Europe the summer after her second year in college. She bought this in a little shop in Paris, in the Marais district. Place des Vosges, I think she said."

"It's beautiful," breathes Alexis, placing it carefully back into the tissue filled box.

"I always loved it. When I was a little girl, I used to dream of the day she would trust me enough to let me hang it on the tree by myself."

"And did she?"

"Yes," grins Kate, picking the ornament up out of the box. "I was five or six, and she hovered over me the whole time in case I dropped it," she laughs quietly, reminiscing. "But I remember feeling so grown-up that day. I didn't even notice her at my back."

She hands it to Alexis again, and says, "Why don't you find a spot for it on the tree," and a feeling like she's letting go of something settles over her; some hurt or weight, and she feels lighter.

* * *

"What about this one?" asks Alexis, withdrawing a similar-sized glass bauble from the box.

The second one has a white, pearlized background, and it's designed to recreate Toulouse Lautrec's poster of a dancer at the Moulin Rouge; her black bustled dress and magnificent red-feathered headdress in sharp contrast to one another. The colors make it festive, though not traditionally Christmassy.

"Did your mom buy this one in Paris too?" asks Alexis.

"You'd think so. But it's not actually French," Kate tells her. "We used to go to the Met a couple of Saturdays a month when I was in middle school. I'd drag her to see the Egyptian Temple in the Sackler Wing every single time, and then I'd make her take me to the museum shop, so that I could stare at the reproduction jewelry in the glass cases. I bought this for her as a mother's day gift one year, to add to her collection. It's actually made in Poland, where a lot of great glassware comes from."

"The detail is amazing," says Castle, holding out his hand to get a better look.

"I saved my pocket money for a couple of months to buy this for her. She loved it though," smiles Kate. "So it was totally worth it."

Castle smooths his hand down over her kneecap as they watch Alexis find a spot for this treasured ornament on the tree, then he nudges her hair away from her neck with his nose, and presses a quick kiss just below her ear, whispering a thank you against her skin.

* * *

"Come on, there's more," Kate tells Alexis, lifting a layer of tissue out of the box to hand her a bright blue Fabergé Egg.

Alexis gasps as she holds out her hands, catching the royal blue velvet bow, from which the ornament hangs, between her fingertips.

"Oh, Kate, wow," she says, her eyes lighting up as tiny Swarovski crystals catch the glow from the twinkling Christmas tree lights.

The egg is a fabulously rich, regal blue cloisonné enamel that reminds Kate of the color of Castle's eyes, now that she sees it again for the first time in a few years. It's designed to look like a pine cone, with the crystals delineating each of the scales on the cone, getting smaller as they near the tip. Though it's fairly small, just a few inches tall, it's solid and heavy and cool to the touch.

"I have to agree with Alexis," Castle tells her, leaning over to balance the ornament in the palm of his hand. "That really is spectacular. You're putting most of our ornaments to shame, Beckett."

"Nonsense," says Kate, grinning with pride all the same. "You haven't seen my homemade ones yet. Alexis' Santa looks like a museum piece compared to mine."

"The egg, is that your mom's?" asks Alexis timidly.

"No. No, I bought this one in Kiev. I had to haggle with the store owner in Russian," she laughs, shaking her head at the memory. "It cost more than I could afford at the time, but I wanted it so badly," she says wistfully.

"I can see why," agrees Alexis.

"So what did you do?" asks Castle, his voice a little tight, intrigued, but slightly nervous to find out how his wild-child girlfriend might have persuaded a vodka-swilling Russian male to part with this treasure for a few less Rubles.

"I offered to pay him in US Dollars, _Castle_. Get your mind out of the gutter," she scolds, pinching the soft flesh on his side. "Hard currency was hard to come by then, so," she shrugs, winking mischievously at Alexis, "I flirted a little and he gave me fifty dollars off the price."

"You _what_…? I _knew_ there had to be flirting involved," he groans, grabbing for her as she tries to evade his wandering hands.

But there's only so far she can go with her legs draped over his thighs, and he pins her against the arm of the couch, draping himself over her torso to plant a sloppy wet kiss on her mouth; claiming her for himself all over again.

Kate shoves at his chest to push him away. "You kiss like an old Russian, Castle. Get off me," she protests, with a girly squeal and a kick of her feet when he starts to tickle her.

Alexis just shakes her head, and gets up to hang the ornament on the tree.

* * *

There are a couple of more items in the box, and once the hilarity dies down, and they're sitting comfortably again, Alexis digs around some more.

Kate sips her wine, hiding a smile behind the rim of the glass, knowing what's coming next.

"Oh, he is just too cute," coos Alexis, withdrawing a homemade snowman from the bottom right-hand corner.

The little chap is made of three white yarn pompoms perched one on top of the other, each one a little smaller than the last. A red felt top hat sits slightly askew on his fluffy little head, and a matching scarf adorns his neck. The eyes were made of tiny black beads, though one of them is now missing, giving him a slightly more edgy appearance then he originally had. His nose is an orange carrot fashioned out of felt, and he has three gray yarn buttons stitched into his rotund little belly.

"Let me guess," says Castle, reaching for her fingers and tugging her hand into his lap, an impish grin on his face. "You were four?" he begins, but Kate shakes her head.

"I think I was six. I had a bad cold, and my mom had to keep me home from kindergarten, even although it was the day of our nativity play."

"Were you playing Mary?" he asks excitedly.

"_No_," she scoffs, fingers flexing against his.

"_Not _the baby Jesus, Beckett?" he teases.

"No, Rick. I was one of the sheep," she confesses with a blush, and he laughs raucously. "But that's hardly the point, Castle," she whines, trying to wriggle her fingers free from his grip. "I _missed_ the whole show," she pouts uncharacteristically.

He chases her mouth for that, loving this little girl act she's allowing him to see, kissing her chastely several times until she has to pull away from him just to think straight.

"So, my mom set me this little crafting project to take my mind off the fun I was missing out on," she tells them, toying with the loop of red yarn that's attached to the snowman's top hat.

"She was so good at that, distracting, taking your eye off the ball. I think that's part of what made her such a good lawyer. She could distract the hell out of the other side with an obscure piece of case law only she had the patience to find," she tells Castle, with some pride.

"Anyway, she showed me how to make the first pompom, with a ball of yarn and two donut shaped pieces of card. I managed to make the other two without cutting myself with the dressmaking scissors she let me use. God, I was so proud of myself," she beams at Alexis.

"You should be. He's still cute all these years later," she declares, getting a raised eyebrow from Kate.

"Is that a statement on my age, Miss Castle?" Kate teases a blushing Alexis.

"Oh no. You have _nothing_ on my dad," she declares, fleeing her father's grasping hands with a yelp, skidding towards the tree to hang the snowman.

"Anyway, I called him Ernie for some reason. Our doorman was called Ernie back then, I guess that was why, and the name just stuck. He hung on our tree every year after that," she says, her eyes glazing over ever so slightly, as she drifts off into her own past.

Castle rubs her thigh in silent sympathy, happy and proud at how she's handling this; learning to open up and share her happy childhood memories with them.

"Well, Ernie is more than welcome. He makes a splendid addition to our tree. Are there anymore?" he asks, lifting the box to rummage inside.

"The snow globe," says Kate solemnly, lifting a small, clear bubble of an ornament out of the bottom of the box.

She shakes it lightly, setting the tiny white flakes swirling to life, dancing up and over the scene that's locked inside. There's a tiny little cabin in the woods, warm, inviting light shining out of the windows and frost coating the shingle roof. A small sprig of mistletoe hangs beneath the old wooden door.

"Let me guess, this is your favorite?" murmurs Castle, leaning over to scoop her up until she's half resting against his chest, his arm coming to rest heavily and comfortingly across her stomach.

Her eyes are downcast, watching the mesmerizing ornament come to life, the tip of her finger circling round and round the smooth glass dome.

"She gave this to me the last Thanksgiving we ever spent together," Kate begins quietly, biting her lip.

Alexis is sitting at their feet on the floor, listening attentively to Kate's story.

"She said I needed to start a collection of my own. Made me mad actually, when she started referring to it as my '_trousseau_'. I mean it was the nineties, Castle. Not the eighteen-nineties. What college kid has a hope chest these days? Mine was full of concert stubs, peasant tops and cut-off shorts. Not Irish linen napkins, embroidered pillowcases and pretty lingerie. But my mom could be…"

She shakes her head a little sadly, just the ghost of a smile curving her lips.

"Romantic?" offers Castle, holding her tighter.

"Oh, she'd have loved you," she smiles, rocking back against him. "But I was going to say _surprisingly traditional,_ for a feminist. My biggest regret is that I don't even remember thanking her properly for this. I had no idea when she gave it to me just how much I would come to cherish it later…after she was gone."

"We all make mistakes like that," consoles Alexis, rising slowly off the floor to kneel beside Kate. "I've lost count of the number of times my mom has got on a plane back to LA, and she's halfway across the country before I even realize that I forgot to tell her I love her."

"Guess that's a lesson for us all," says Castle, squeezing his increasingly mature daughter's hand gratefully.

"Can you hang it for me, Alexis?" asks Kate, swiping quickly at the lone tear tracking down her cheek.

* * *

Much later, after they've eaten dinner and Alexis has gone to bed, Kate and Castle are lying together on the couch in the dark, both staring at the twinkling lights on their Christmas tree.

The loft is silent and warm, the only light coming from the tree itself; tinsel garlands and ornaments reflecting sparks of color against the floor, walls, and windows, like a ray of sunlight through a prism.

Kate thinks it looks magical, so festive, the heat from the fire releasing the sharp, musky scent of pine into the room, mingling with the cinnamon from their empty mugs of hot chocolate, filling her with longing, but also a deep feeling of contentment she can't ever remember feeling before.

Castle's foot kicks out reflexively as he slips into the beginnings of a dream, and his leg jerks against Kate's, his hands settling more heavily over her stomach.

She sits up between his thighs and stretches, stifling a yawn, and then tries to ease herself off the couch and out of his arms without waking him.

"Where you going?" he slurs sleepily, catching hold of her hand and tugging.

"Go back to sleep," she whispers, leaning over him to press a kiss to his warm, dry forehead.

He's suddenly more conscious, his tone suspicious.

"Kate, where are you going?" he blinks up at her, eyes such a dark shade of navy that they look like nuggets of coal.

"I'm going back to my apartment, remember?" she says gently, combing her fingers through his adorably messy hair as he leans into her touch, eyelids drifting shut.

"No," he grouses crabbily. "Stay?"

"Rick, we already talked about this. I'm coming to stay tomorrow. But tonight I need to go home, let you have some time alone with Alexis tomorrow," she soothes, too tired to fight, hoping he'll be reasonable.

"But she loves you too," he protests, too sleepy to filter his thoughts apparently, and not above a little emotional blackmail, even in this hazy state.

"I know. But this is the right thing to do. You know it is," she consoles him, leaning back down to kiss his lips softly, fingers curling delicately around his ear. "Sleep, Rick. I'll text you when I get home," she promises.

He's already gone by the time she slips her coat on, leaving the loft still wearing his Zombie Apocalypse sweatshirt, just as he feared she would, their Christmas tree twinkling a fond farewell from the corner of the room.

_A/N: Wow! Those reviews were like an early Christmas gift! I hadn't planned to write about Kate's box of ornaments, but a few reviewers said they hoped to hear their story...so this one was for you! Have a great Friday and a lovely weekend. Liv_


	8. Chapter 8 Call Me Sentimental

Disclaimer: The reindeer are weighing in on the vote!

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 8: Call Me Sentimental**_

_December 21st - Nighttime_

The taxi ride back was cold and lonely, the snowy streets deserted, anyone with an ounce of sense cocooned at home. Even the partygoers had vanished from the streets at this hour.

"Hi, dad," she says, feeling a driving urge to call her father after today's bout of cathartic reminiscence.

"Katie? Are you okay?" he asks, his voice instantly betraying concern.

"Great, dad. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No. No, I was reading. Where are you? Sounds noisy."

"I'm in a cab on my way home from Rick's. I just…I wanted to check you're still okay for Christmas."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'm looking forward to it. Martha filled me in on all the details. She's making a pie and I'm bringing cheesecake," he informs Kate, to shocked silence on her end.

"Martha? You talked to _Martha_? And you…you're _baking_ a cheesecake?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Katie," he chuckles warmly in her ear. "When Martha ran through the menu, we decided that we would make desert. If you and Rick are roasting the turkey and everything, it's the least we can do."

"Well, if you're sure. Dad, my cab just pulled up. I'll call you tomorrow," she says, paying the driver in a bit of a haze. "Oh, and dad?"

"Yes, Katie?"

"Merry Christmas."

* * *

By the time Kate gets to her apartment, there is a text message waiting on her phone.

She pushes tiredly through the front door, already missing the solidity of Castle's body at her back; his warmth surrounding her, seeping into her tired bones.

Her apartment is as quiet as the loft was, but Christmas is a fugitive from her stylish, eclectic home. There are no cheerful cards; no evergreen to twinkle its welcome and fill her nose with its piney scent; no garlands heavy with shiny red berries; no nativity scene, choo choo train or Santa sleigh laden with miniature gifts to make her smile, and no carol singing to keep her in a festive mood.

But more importantly, she realizes, there is no Richard Castle here to fill her heart to the brim with his silliness, his warmth, his joy and love. And she misses him, doesn't know why she forced herself to stick to their original plan to let Rick and Alexis have some time alone together the day the girl arrived home from college and then share a father-daughter breakfast the next morning, before Castle arrives at her apartment to help her move her stuff to the loft for the duration of the holidays.

But it is only for one night.

She's being silly, his tendency towards melodrama apparently rubbing off on her. She held him at bay, kept him from invading her heart, for the better part of four years. She should be able to handle this - one night. But spending the day with her partner and his daughter, dressing the loft, trimming _their_ tree, it has opened up a world of Beckett Christmas memories she had long suppressed, and now that she has started sharing, she doesn't think she can…or even _wants_ to stop.

She wants to feel all of it again, to remember. To experience the magic of her early childhood, when she was the cherished apple of her parents' eye; her teen years, when she let herself indulge in tradition even when she acted like it didn't matter anymore, that she was too cool for all the pine-scented hoopla so beloved by both her parents.

And then there were her adult years; a cold blur of tears, holidays spent volunteering for extra shifts on the streets of New York, and then later, as a detective, just to make it through, to survive the days she considered the darkest, bleakest and loneliest of her year.

* * *

She hangs her coat in the hall closet, kicks off her shoes, shivering in the cool of her unheated living room, and then heads to the kitchen, filling the kettle and pulling down a mug and a box of teabags.

The mug is a new favorite, a recent gift from Castle - _'Do I need a reason, Kate?_' - white porcelain with a very traditional, jolly-looking Santa Claus on the front and the word "_Believe_" emblazoned in red below Santa's smiling face. On the reverse side of the mug are the words, '_Never stop believing in the possibility of magic_.'

She checks her phone while she waits for the kettle to finish boiling, about to text Castle that she got home safely, just a she promised him she would. But there's already a message waiting for her from the writer.

It reads, '_Call me as soon as you get this. Rx'_

She's pretty sure it isn't an emergency. He'd have called her if that were the case. So she finishes making a cup of vanilla spiced chai, adding a sprinkle of nutmeg, not freshly grated but it'll have to do, and a half-teaspoon of allspice to warm up the mixture. Then she heads to her bedroom to change into a long sleep-shirt. It's dark navy cotton sateen, with white piping edging the rever collar, falling to mid thigh. Castle loves unbuttoning it, she thinks, as she settles into bed smiling, while mentally tutting at her own sentimental thoughts.

She pulls a soft grey, mohair throw up over her knees to combat the cold in her empty apartment, and hits speed dial.

* * *

"I miss you," are the first words out of his mouth, before Kate can even draw a breath, and she finds herself sighing and laughing all at once.

Ridiculous, beautiful man.

"When I left you were sleeping," she scolds, smiling in spite of the admonishing tone she's trying to inject into her voice.

"Power nap, detective," he corrects, before reiterating his opening statement.

"I miss you, Kate," he whines, forcing her to address his remark, which might also be a question for her.

"Since when was mind reading allowed when we're not even in the same room, Castle?" she grins, touching her tongue to her teeth even although she knows he can't see her. And it's as if she can _hear_ him grinning down the phone, when he's not even speaking. "You're smiling right now, aren't you?" she asks, her voice low and husky, vocal cords drawn tight with emotion.

"So _I_ can't read your mind, but you get to…what do we even call that, Kate? Envision me? Summon my image? Spy from afar? Wait? You're not outside the door are you?" he asks, his voice rising with excitement at the thin possibility that might actually be the case.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Castle. But I'm tucked up in my own bed, like we agreed," she gently reminds him.

"Yeah, remind me not to agree to such stupidity again," he grouses, and she can hear him shift in his own bed, her heart contracting with the need to be there with him.

"Miss you too," she confesses, burying her pink cheeks in the rim of her mug of tea, feeling the steam swirl over her eyelashes, tickling her warm skin.

"Why are we doing this, Kate?" he asks with a long sigh, and the lack of teasing or artifice in his question makes her heart start to hammer.

Too close. His questions get too close to the bone sometimes, as if he can see inside her soul.

"Disclaimer," she says lightly, hoping her voice doesn't betray her. "I'm reminding you of our thought process when we originally planned this," she warns. "That doesn't mean I necessarily believe in the plan anymore…after today. But we agreed you needed to spend time alone with Alexis, to find some kind of new normal her first Christmas home from college, and _our_ first Christmas…"

"As a couple," he completes for her, and she imagines his eyes closing softly as he says those words; his dream come true, she knows.

"Yes, that," agrees Kate smiling, wishing she could reach for him, twine their fingers together on top of the cool sheets, feel his hand dwarfing hers.

* * *

"Thank you. For today," he says suddenly, as Kate sips her tea.

"What on earth for?" she asks in surprise, coughing as the warm liquid catches in her throat, because surely it's the other way round?

"For sharing with us, for making Alexis look outside of her own world to think about someone else's life. Sometimes I worry that I've made things a little too comfortable for her, in my quest to be both mom and dad. I didn't want her to miss out on anything growing up just because I was useless at…"

Kate can hear the rasp of dark stubble along his jaw as he scrubs his hand down over his face, sighing.

"Well, anyway, Meredith is in the past," he states, matter of fact. "But I worry sometimes…that I've over-compensated perhaps. Kept her too sheltered, spoiled, protected from the realities of life."

"Rick, she works in a _morgue_…with _Lanie_ and dead people. At the age of _eighteen_," laughs Kate. "How much more real do you want her life to get?" she asks, not wanting to rubbish his fears, because she believes that a few years ago he might have had a point, before their lives collided and they changed so much about each another.

"I guess hanging out with Lanie Parish _can_ make life feel pretty damn real," he groans. "I hate to think what that woman might be teaching her…and for the record, I don't mean pathology and anatomy."

"That's my best friend you're talking about," protests Kate.

"Mmm, and my impressionable daughter's mentor. Don't remind me."

"She's growing up, Castle. You made sure she has a good head on her shoulders. She's more than equipped for the real world."

"Maybe. But I still want to thank you for what you did today. She said she's never thought about how hard Christmas must be for you. That's progress."

"I don't want to make her sad, Castle."

"No. No, you didn't. She loved your stories. But more than that, you made her think, question things, look at her own life in a different way. You heard what she said about her own mom."

"Then I'm happy I could help?" says Kate tentatively, if that's what she has done, if she understands him correctly.

"Your childhood Christmases must have been so…so _special_, Kate. I know we were both only children, Alexis too, but…and I know my mom did her best…but your home life must have been magical."

"My mom worked a lot, Rick. Long hours. You _know_ that. She wasn't always home for dinner, missed out on the odd ballet recital and school play. My dad had to make my first Halloween costume. I was the weirdest looking bumblebee on the block! Tell me we're not having a contest over who had the happiest childhood?"

"No. I know. I know. I'm an idiot. I can be too sentimental, an idealist."

"You're a romantic with a soft heart, and I love that about you. Today meant a lot to me too. I don't share easily, in case you haven't noticed," she grins, hoping he can hear the levity in her voice. "So talking about those things reminded me of all the happy times I've spent the last twelve years trying to forget."

"Your ornaments are on my tree," he says out of the blue, proud and happy, and she can definitely hear him smiling this time.

"_Our_ tree," corrects Kate, setting her empty mug on the nightstand.

"Yes, _our_ tree."

"Oh, and your mom called me dad," she remembers to tell him. "They're making dessert."

"_Together_?" yelps Castle, and she hears him sit bolt upright in bed.

"Uh, no. At least I hope not. Martha's baking a pie. Has your mom ever made a pie before?"

"Pepcid AC, I'm adding that to the grocery list."

"My dad is baking a cheesecake, apparently."

"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with those two being…please say they're just friends, Kate?"

He sounds a little panicked.

"They're just friends," she repeats, sounding a little unconvinced.

But apparently it's enough to reassure Castle. Silence settles between them, neither one ready to end the call, sever their connection.

* * *

"What time is it?" he asks her, yawning loudly, and she hears the sound of him settling down under the covers; the slide of his body over crisp cotton, the thump his pillow gets before he lays his head down.

"Way past your bedtime."

"I wish you were here," he moans again, shifting the phone to his other ear. "Bed's too big."

"Mine's too empty," confesses Kate.

"How did we go without for so long?"

"_Without?_" she laughs, her breath catching in her chest, tickled by her partner's silliness.

"Katherine Beckett. Mind out of the sewer," he scolds. "I meant without each other, as well you know."

"Oh right…_that_," she deadpans, as if fact of them being together is no big deal, setting him off on a low, rumbling laugh of his own.

"I really _am_ the girl in this relationship."

"'Fraid so, Castle. Think your fans will be able to handle it if word gets out?"

"She gave you New Years off, right?" he asks, switching tack at breakneck speed, as his busy mind bounces from one idea association to the next, like some wacky word game.

"I'm putting in a formal request on Monday, like I promised I would," she explains patiently; ever the calm, dusky yin to his excitable, light-filled yang.

"Christmas Eve. Think she'll be in a better mood? More likely to say yes? Spirit of the season and all that."

"If I don't tell her _why_ I want time off…_maybe?_" muses Kate.

"You mean escorting _me_ to a fancy New Year's Eve party where I'm scheduled to be the guest of honor? As my girlfriend," he teases, because he knows how juvenile she finds that kind of talk.

"Yeah, I might just leave the words '_girlfriend_' and '_Richard Castle_' off the Leave Request form, Castle."

"Is it bad that I'm already excited to celebrate New Years with you, Kate?"

"You mean when we haven't even had Christmas yet?"

"I mean…I don't know what I mean," he sighs, flopping onto his back in bed, restless. "I'm just…_excited_."

Kate knows exactly what he means, even if he's the one struggling to put it into words for once.

"New year, new start, but we'll be together for this one?" she suggests, hearing his pillow rustle when he nods in the dark.

"You're too smart for me," he complains, earning a chuckle from Kate for his silly, sleepy talk.

"Did you spike the eggnog after I left, Castle? Because you sound kind of…_drunk_?"

"I'm not drunk. I'm in love. There's a big difference, Kate," he mumbles sleepily.

"Okay, you need to sleep now," she says quickly.

She wants to say it, she does. But not over the phone at one in the morning when they're both exhausted and she can't look him in the eye and let him see everything that he means to her now.

"But I don't want you to leave me."

"I'm hanging up the phone so we can both get some sleep, Castle."

"Okay, but let's do it at the same time."

"I am not playing that game with you again," she grins, tugging the covers up to her chin and settling down against her pillows, remembering some of the ridiculous calls they had after they first got together that went on late into the night because he would argue over who should hang up first.

"On three?"

"Rick," she sighs, pressing her fingers to her mouth to temper her smile. "I'll see you in less than twelve hours."

"That's far too long. I'll be at your apartment by ten."

"But Alexis?"

"I'll bring her with me. We can bond at your place."

"You're insane."

"But you love me anyway," he sings, and Kate swallows thickly, pushing the words down until she can find the perfect time to say them, without any prompting from anyone.

"Night, Rick," she whispers, hoping he hears something of it in her tone.

"Night, Kate. Sweet dreams."

She's not sure who hangs up first, but she's pretty sure they're both grinning like idiots when they do.

_A/N: Some reviewers were upset that Kate actually went home to her own apartment for ONE NIGHT folks. So I wrote this little chapter to make you feel better. Hope you can feel the love. Liv_


	9. Chapter 9 Mi Casa Es Su Casa

Disclaimer: Rudolph might be a hold out. Donner and Blitzen are working on him. :D

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 9: Mi Casa Es Su Casa_**

Saturday December 22nd - Daytime

It's exactly 9.59am when she hears the distinctive knock on her front door; that sharp, jolly, rhythmic rapping sound that she instantly recognizes as Castle.

She's busy plumping cushions and rearranging her knickknacks, fidgeting nervously at the thought of Alexis coming over to her apartment for the first time ever.

She has coffee brewing in her machine, the fixings for hot chocolate laid out on the kitchen counter, and she ran out to the little bakery down the block fifteen minutes ago to buy some croissants and pain au chocolat, fresh out of the oven. The pastries are swaddled in a red linen napkin, nestled in a wicker basket to keep them warm.

When she throws open the door, Castle is standing there with the happiest grin on his face, and in an instant, all of her nerves dissipate.

Alexis is hovering behind her dad, with a Tupperware box clutched in her hands. She looks even more uncomfortable than Kate was feeling, if that's at all possible.

* * *

"Uh, hi," says Kate, smiling broadly at her crazily eager boyfriend and his awkward-looking teenage daughter.

His daughter who looks like she wants to crawl into a hole in the ground, as she watches her dad and his detective girlfriend make eyes at one another over the threshold of her apartment.

Kate snaps out of it first, remembering her manners and the fact that they have company this morning, so she can't just haul him through the door by his lapels and pin him up against the nearest wall like she usually would.

"Please, come in," she says, directing the invitation at Alexis.

Thankfully Castle gets a grip on himself too, stepping back to usher Alexis into Kate's apartment ahead of him. He slides a hand around his girlfriend's waist as he passes by, leaning down to press a soft kiss of greeting to her lips, and then they walk in together.

"Morning," he whispers, grinning lips brushing her ear, as he lets his hand slide down over the back of her jeans, fingers slipping playfully into her back pocket and squeezing. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a log. Once I got this crazy stalker off the phone."

"Crazy stalker, huh? He give you any clues to his identity, this guy?"

"Well, he likes Christmas, for one thing," teases Kate, tugging on his cuff. "Oh, and I think his mom knows my dad," she grins, as Castle groans, palming his face.

"Don't remind me."

Alexis watches them interact; the teasing and touching, the unabashed affection and eye contact between them, the easy way they have around one another now.

Castle takes Alexis' coat, and she hovers uncomfortably just beyond the foyer like a lost soul, her eyes roaming curiously around the parts of Kate's apartment she can see from that spot.

She turns to watch her dad hang both of their coats in Kate's hall closet. Then her eyes track him as he walks into the living room and heads straight to the kitchen to get a glass from the shelf over Kate's sink, before helping himself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

His behavior is natural, but it also serves to highlight the intimacy and closeness that has developed between these two since Alexis left for college, and it leaves her feeling a little on the outside of this domestic scene.

* * *

"Alexis? Coffee or hot chocolate?" Kate calls over her shoulder, from the far side of the island. "Or I have juice if you prefer," she offers, waving for her to come and join them in the kitchen, while Castle messes around; his wandering hands constantly reaching for her as she huffs and pokes out an elbow, trying to hold him at bay.

"Beckett, you got us treats," he squeals, when he discovers the basket of baked goods she's about to place in the oven to warm, and Kate has to slap his hand away to stop him from helping himself prematurely.

Alexis is standing by the stainless steel island now, looking around her with wide, thoughtful eyes when she thinks neither of the adults are watching, drinking everything in.

But she's too quiet, and that catches Kate's attention. The detective nudges her partner, and tilts her head towards the girl.

"Why don't you go sit with her. Make her feel at home, while I get this stuff ready," she suggests quietly, shooing him away with her hands at his waist before Alexis senses them plotting.

"Alexis, make yourself at home," Kate says more loudly, indicating the grey sofa. "And feel free to look around," she adds, watching the girls eyes linger on a stack of books behind her desk in the open plan study.

"Oh, these are for you," Alexis says, depositing the Tupperware box full of homemade cookies on the island, before she wanders off towards the study.

* * *

"I've never seen her this quiet," whispers Castle, when Alexis drifts away to check out Kate's books. "Not since she was four and I threw Monkey Bunkey in the dryer with some towels, and he shrank."

"What happened?"

"He stank. And I mean, _really stank_," hams Castle, holding his nose. "She carried him _everywhere_, slept with the little ratbag. He had peanut butter on his paws for God sake. What was I supposed to do?"

"I meant what happened _after_ you fumigated him?" asks Kate patiently, eyes crinkling with humor at his heartfelt little tale.

"_Oh_. Right. That. Well, she wouldn't speak to me until I got her another one. And when I did, she said he was, quote, '_dead behind the eyes'_. Took me weeks to persuade her he was '_Monkey Bunkey The First'_ reincarnated, and not some lifeless, soulless imposter out to body snatch her beloved toy."

"You're such a good dad," whispers Kate, tugging on the front of his shirt, until he collides with her chest and she can press her mouth again his. "Now, go. Help her relax. I'll be right in," she promises, patting his ass when he turns to leave.

* * *

When Kate reappears with a tray full of cups, a coffee pot, and the pastries, Alexis and Castle are sitting on the sofa looking through one of her coffee table books; a heavy, oversized art volume full of the works of the Italian Baroque painter, Caravaggio.

"This is _awesome_," declares Castle, flicking from page to page, each image darker or more bloody than the next.

"Trust you to fixate on that one," scolds Kate, shaking her head, as she sets the snacks and drinks down on the small coffee table in the middle of the floor.

"Actually, Alexis chose it," he corrects her a little smugly.

"I studied Caravaggio in art history. The use of shadow in his work, the way he owned and defined the _chiaroscuro_ technique, I think it's amazing," she enthuses, while Castle listens quietly like the proud parent he is.

"Which of his paintings is your favorite?" asks Kate, glad they finally have something to connect over.

"David with the Head of Goliath," she grins.

"Hmm, one of his later works. Gruesome too. I guess you're more like your father than I give you credit for," she risks teasing.

"Is that a compliment or an insult, detective?" challenges Alexis, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, what do you think?" Castle asks the girl, reaching over to tickle her side until Alexis fights him off. "Kate's crazy about me."

"Or she could just be crazy," Alexis adds cheekily, pale blue eyes twinkling.

"I meant it as a compliment," Kate reassures her, before things get out of hand. "Though I _can_ see why you might be wary," adds Kate, raising an eyebrow at her partner.

She pours out three cups of coffee, and then offers the pastries around.

"This is so much more civilized than the Ding Dongs and Twinkies dad used to serve _my_ friends when they came over," declares Alexis, trying to embarrass her dad on purpose.

Kate turns a big beaming smile on Castle.

"_What?_ They were five years old, and forgive me if I hadn't quite gotten into my culinary stride where cooking and baking were concerned. You are _such_ a tattletale," he scolds Alexis.

"So," he coughs, determined to change the subject, "you all packed?"

"Mmm," hums Kate, pulling a pain au chocolate apart, and then dipping a buttery chunk in her coffee, one foot tucked underneath her where she's lounging in her Eames chair.

She's enjoying his discomfort in the limelight after that little Hostess baked goods story, and can see exactly what he's trying to do.

"Yes. Just have my…uh…hairdryer to pack," she tells him, licking her fingers in a way she knows he finds insanely seductive, because he told her so once, in the break room at the Twelfth of all place.

"Use mine. One less thing to carry," Castle suggests.

"But I like mine. It's…_powerful_."

"Oh, you haven't seen powerful until you've seen dad's," blurts Alexis, blushing furiously when she realizes how that sounds out loud.

"Well, if he's willing to share," says Kate, getting her out of a hole. "I guess I can leave mine here."

* * *

A little while later, Castle goes to Kate's bedroom to fetch her bags, while she and Alexis wash the dishes, empty the refrigerator, and bag up the garbage, in preparation for leaving her apartment closed up over Christmas.

"_So_…I like your apartment," Alexis finally tells her, handing Kate a cup to dry.

"You do? Thanks," says Kate warmly. "I can't believe I haven't had you over here before now. If you ever need, you know, a little space or something… Your dad has a key. Just let yourself in and make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Kate," the girl beams, clearly delighted by the offer.

"My hours can be crazy, as you know. So I'm not here a whole lot when we have a big case on. Dorm living is fun, until it gets claustrophobic, and you get desperate for a little privacy. So, yeah. Mi casa es su casa. Feel free to use it anytime."

"Use what anytime?" asks Castle, appearing out of nowhere as usual, Ninja powers set to high.

"My apartment," says Kate, smacking him in the chest with a damp dishtowel for sneaking up on them.

"You…you _gave_ her your apartment?" he asks excitedly, seriously hoping this means she's moving in with him permanently, even although they haven't discussed that thorny issue yet.

"No, dad. She offered me the use of it whenever I need a little privacy. There's a difference," says Alexis dryly.

"Wh…why would you be needing privacy?" he stammers, staring with concern firstly at Alexis, then at Kate, and back again.

"Rick, can you come help me with something…_in the bedroom_?" asks Kate, tugging him after her by the waistband of his pants.

"Why does she need privacy?" he whisper-hisses once they are alone, grabbing Kate by the shoulders.

"No reason. I just thought she might need a break from her dorm now and again. A little grown-up space she can escape to. Don't turn this into a thing," she admonishes.

"But what if she brings some…some college jock back here, and…and we're…_you know_?" he splutters.

"This is Alexis we're talking about. You know, that slim, beautiful, redhead daughter of yours. The one with more sense in her little finger than either of us put together. She'll _ask_ first before she uses your key."

"_My key_? You told her she could use _my key_?" he squeaks, looking at the shiny new door key that he treasures dangling on his fob.

"Okay, you need to learn to share, _only child_," she scolds, patting his chest and then walking around him to go back out into the living room.

* * *

Alexis is inspecting Kate's pewter octopus when the detective comes back into the room, and she hurriedly puts it back on the edge of the bookshelf.

"I bought that in an antique shop in Positano, on the Amalfi coast," explains Kate, trailing a finger over the statue's cool head. "Nicknamed him '_Polpo_'," she smiles.

"You've travelled _a lot_," says Alexis, with a little awe in her voice. "I'd love to hear about some of the places you've visited sometime. I'm hoping to plan a trip of my own this summer."

"Well, we've got a few days together over the holidays. We could talk about it then. Maybe look at some websites," suggests Kate, running her hand down the length of Alexis' braid.

"I'd really like that," nods Alexis, smiling, while Castle watches his two girls from the bedroom doorway with a lump in his throat.

_A/N: This chapter was for DarkRedWillow, who hoped to see Alexis at Kate's apartment. Thank you for your lovely reviews. Happy Sunday, folks! Only one more day to go until Secret Santa! Liv_


	10. Chapter 10 Make Mincemeat Out Of You

Disclaimer: Donner and Blitzen say yes. But Prancer and Dancer may need some persuading. Ordering up some organic carrots.

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 10: I'll Make Mincemeat Out Of You_**

_A/N: This chapter picks up following the first section of Chapter 4, after the candle discussion with the boys, when they leave the Precinct on Christmas Eve. Assume Kate survived being dragged around Whole Foods Market by Castle with his long grocery list. They're now back at the loft, where she's been living since Saturday Dec 22__nd__._

_Monday December 24__th__ – Early evening_

"Castle, step away from the flour dredger, if you know what's good for you," warns Kate, putting her hand against his chest to hold him at arms length, away from her.

It's Christmas Eve, and they have a date to make her mom's mince pies together, and her childish, Christmas-obsessed boyfriend is high as a kite and ten times as mischievous.

"But you're armed with a rolling pin," he complains. "Hardly a fair fight, Beckett."

"I'm making pastry, Castle. Not about to indulge in hand-to-hand combat. Now, do you want to help me or not?"

He slides in behind her, pinning her between his body and the counter, hands braced either side of her waist on top of the cool marble surface.

"Your countertop is perfect for rolling out pastry. But _you_, on the other hand, might just ruin the effect by warming things up a little too much."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm _hot_, Beckett?" he leers, leaning down to suck lightly on her neck.

"I'd like to hear less Beckett and more Kate, and see less Castle and more Rick, if you don't mind?" she requests, squirming beneath him, and then digging an elbow into his stomach to get him to back off.

"What's the difference?" he asks, curious to hear her distinction, his flour coated fingertips massaging the bones of her hips while he unconsciously moves against her rear.

"Oh god. Right,_ step away!_ I can't _think_ when you're this close. And we're supposed to be making my mom's recipe. What you're doing to me right now is a little less than holy, Castle."

"_And_…we're back to Castle," he sighs.

"Yes, _Castle_ – the bad boy, the…the guy who drives me insane with his silly jokes and his…"

"Wandering hands?" he offers, trying to help her out.

"Yes. And…wandering other things. I want Rick," she whines, turning round to face him. "This is important to me. Sharing our traditions, remember?"

"I'm sorry. I'll be good. Good Rick, I promise," he nods, back to being the obedient little boy she knows he can be, instead of the nine year old hopped up on candy canes like he has been since they got home from work today.

* * *

He's wearing a novelty Christmas apron over his jeans and a dark blue and red plaid shirt. It has a cheerful, cheeky little gingerbread man printed on the front, complete with bow tie and white buttons, and the words, 'Bite Me' scrawled jaggedly below his little brown feet, serial killer style.

"Do you think Gates saw us leaving together?" he asks, leaning one elbow on the counter to watch her remove the ball of pastry dough from the glass bowl.

"We leave together a lot. So what if she did? There's nothing unusual about that."

"Yes. But you don't usually hold my hand when we get into the elevator."

"I was _not_ holding your hand," she scoffs, giving him a puzzled frown.

"Were too."

"Was not."

"_Kate_," he sighs, running a soothing hand down her back, because he can see she's taking her mind back to the point they said goodbye to the guys this afternoon, and then headed for the elevator together…and in three, two…

"Oh crap! I held your hand, didn't I?"

"Yes. And it was sweet, and I loved it. You were excited to be going home."

"But what if she saw us, Castle?" wails Kate.

"It's Christmas. She'd already downed a half a box of liqueur filled candies. I'm sure we can…I don't know, fudge it somehow."

"Fudge it? Like how? Oh Captain Gates," she says, mimicking Castle's deep voice, "Beckett was just so overcome with the spirit of the season that she held my hand all the way down to the parking garage?"

"Yeah, I'm not liking Beckett so much either. Can I have Kate back please?"

Kate glares at him for all of five seconds before his adorably cute smile breaks her, and she grins back.

"I can't believe I was so…so _stupid_."

"You weren't stupid. It was romantic. Our first Christmas together, going grocery shopping. You were just excited."

"For the vegan candles, yeah, don't remind me. And that snotty woman ahead of us with the organic peanut butter and banana treats for her _dog_!"

"I _know_. We should totally get a dog, _right_?" he says eagerly, like this is the best suggestion he's had in a long while.

"That's…uh…_that's_ what you're taking from what I just said? We need to get _a dog_? Are you insane?"

"What's wrong with getting a dog?"

"Oh, nothing…_in theory_. Dogs are great. But, Castle, we don't even…" she sighs, not really wanting to get into this with him right now, because she knows what his answer will be.

"We don't what? You were great with Royal," he protests.

"That was a temporary, timeshare dog. Not a full time, needs to be walked and fed and groomed everyday kind of a dog."

"I would take care of all of that."

"Why do I feel like I'm speaking to a child when I talk to you about stuff like this? You would get bored of taking care of another…animal. One cold, wet, dark winter's morning, when our dog needed walking, and you'd be too cosy to get out of bed, and guess who..."

"Hey, I looked after Alexis for seventeen years," he points out.

"Mmm, and she probably potty trained herself. And she definitely didn't need taken outside at six o'clock on a cold winter's morning to do her business."

"I think you're being unfair."

"Okay, so maybe I am…_a little_. But, as I said, we don't even live together, Castle, so sharing a dog…_impractical_," she says, shaking her head, determined to close the whole subject down. "Now, hand me that flour dredger."

"You know there is a way we could remedy that."

"I'm not walking your dog, Castle."

"_Our_ dog, Kate. And that's not what I meant. I meant, you could move in with me. Permanently."

"Rick…" she groans, pushing the heel of her floury hand against the knot that's forming between her eyes.

"At least we're back to Rick. That's progress. Just…say you'll think about it at least?"

"I'm only getting my head around _our_ Christmas tree. Now you want _our_ dog and _our_ apartment?"

"To much?"

"_Yes,_ too much. You know me better than to push. Just…let's enjoy what we have now. For five minutes, please? Before we go making any radical life changes. I'm not saying no. I'm just saying…let me catch my breath, okay?" she says gently, touching a dusty finger to his jaw, leaving an imprint on his scruff, as she tenderly kisses the side of his mouth.

"I guess I can do that."

"Good. I appreciate it. Now, help me make this mincemeat?"

* * *

Kate sets Castle the task of coring and chopping the apples, figuring it'll keep his hands busy, while she weighs out a mix of raisins, golden sultanas and currants.

"My mom added preserved ginger to the candied peel. Gives it a spicier flavor, and muscovado sugar to make it richer than regular brown sugar."

"Smells amazing already. What's next?"

"Can you zest and juice one orange and one lemon for me?"

"Is that what the blood orange was for?"

"Yes, it's…I think I put it in the fruit bowl over there. We don't want it chilled."

Kate chops almonds and weighs out dried cranberries, while Castle deals with the citrus fruit. Then she slices open a vanilla pod and scrapes out the seeds.

"Another of my mom's little extras," she tells him, tapping the tiny black seeds into the bowl from the point of her paring knife.

"And you did this with her every year on Christmas Eve? Made these mince pies to take to your grandmother's on Christmas Day?"

"Yes, every year. And when my nana died, we just carried on making them. We gave some to the elderly woman who lived downstairs, and my mom would take a box into her office to share with her team."

She smiles to herself at the happy memory.

"We would chat about this and that while we worked. When I got older, she would talk to me about a case she was working or some office gossip, and I would tell her about a boy I was interested in or a fight I'd had with my best friend."

"Sounds interesting," grins Castle, with a raised eyebrow, wishing he could have been a fly on the wall for those discussions. "Well, I hope I make an okay substitute."

"More than," agrees Kate, smiling back, feeling so grateful to have him here, resurrecting this tradition with her.

"Watch fingers," warns Kate, wincing when Castle gets a little gung-ho with the zester.

"Kate," he says gently, straightening up and pausing what he's doing. "I have used a lemon zester before."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop hovering. I just…I haven't done this with anyone before."

"Make mince pies?"

"Make _anything_. It's new, so…give me a little latitude to over-supervise?"

"You mean control?"

"Shut up. I do _not_ control."

"Says the woman who won't let me get out of the car to help execute a warrant."

"That's different, and you know it."

"Right, but I'm peeling the rind off a lemon right now, and you're still telling me what to do. Control freak," he sings lightly in Kate's ear.

"You weren't saying that when I cuffed you to the bed last night," she counters, grinning, when a wicked smile breaks across his face.

"That's different, and _you_ know it," he chokes, skidding the zester by accident, narrowly missing taking a chunk out of his index finger.

* * *

They work in silence for a few minutes. Kate adds cinnamon, ground ginger, mixed spice, and then some freshly grated nutmeg to the mixture, combining all of the ingredients together in the bowl with the shredded suet.

"Where did you find this stuff?" asks Castle, lifting up the Atora packaging to inspect it.

"British store on Hudson, Myers of Keswick. My mom went there every year to buy brandy butter and the suet for our mince pies."

"Did you go with her?"

"Sometimes. More when I was little. I thought I had better things to do by the time I was in high school. Amazing the decisions you live to regret," she says, somewhat wistfully.

"Mmm, isn't it," says Castle smugly, nudging her shoulder.

"_What?_"

"Like getting a dog, or moving in with your ruggedly handsome boyfriend or…or waiting four years to tell someone how you feel about them?"

Kate can feel her cheeks heating up.

"We have to put this in the oven to cook for three hours," she tells him, tearing off a length of aluminum foil to cover the ovenproof bowl, avoiding, avoiding, avoiding.

"Eh, I think you forgot the essential ingredient?" says Castle, enjoying how flustered he's managed to make her. "Sherry?" he says, holding up a bottle he just pulled out of the cabinet.

"My dad," says Kate quietly. "I know it's been a long time since he fell off the wagon. But…"

"Hey, say no more. That was thoughtless of me," he tells her, pressing a quick, smacking kiss to the top of her head. "Sorry. Let's get this in the oven," he says, handing her a pair of Santa Claus oven mitts, and then we can get ready for our snack party and a Christmas movie marathon.

_A/N: We got our first snowfall overnight, so I'm beginning to feel Christmassy. Enjoy Secret Santa tonight guys...or tomorrow if you're not in the US. Liv_


	11. Chapter 11 Miracles Never Cease

Disclaimer: Mrs. Claus is consulting some arcane case law.

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 11: Miracles Never Cease_**

_Monday December 24th – Evening_

When Kate emerges from the bathroom half an hour later, hair freshly curled, feeling warm and relaxed, the delicious smell of food assails her senses. The aroma is simply amazing, overwhelming, mouth watering, intoxicating; a mix of savory scents that incorporate everything from strongly flavored cheeses and briny olives, through roasted garlic and sharp peppery arugula.

"They delivered while I was taking a bath?" she asks, smile drawn wide with wonder, accepting the kiss and the glass of champagne Castle offers her with a graceful nod and a tinkle of crystal. "I feel like I just died and went to culinary heaven. Somewhere life is run by perfect little cheffy elves; who cook and serve and then clear up afterwards."

"Finally starting to feel the magic, I see," grins Castle, so pleased to see her so relaxed in his home as he escorts her over to the dining table where the food has been beautifully laid out. "These particular elves do everything you just described, except the dishes. But, hey, that's what we have a dishwasher for, so two out of three ain't bad."

"Castle, this looks amazing," she declares, eyes lighting up at the feast set out in front of them. "When you said _snack party_…I wasn't…I mean, this is just…_wow!_" she beams, trying to take it all in; the opulence of the spread.

There's a vast assortment of finger-food; pigs in a blanket, tiny beef sliders with jalapenos and cheddar cheese, something that looks like little rolls of shrimp and lobster meat swaddled in endive leaves, bacon wrapped dates with almonds, rolls of prosciutto stuffed with goat cheese, and mini pizzas topped with tomato, garlic, Mozzarella, basil, and pancetta. There are even tiny chorizo sausages and mini croquetas de jamon.

The serving dishes are exquisite too, and peppered amongst them are springs of fresh holly with dark shiny leaves and cherry red berries and several large fat pine cones, their scales opened out by the heat of the loft. Two tall, creamy white candles, set in the modern silver, Georg Jensen candle holders that Kate brought with her from her own apartment, have been lit in the center of the table, and they cast a warm, dancing glow over the feast.

* * *

"Are these…?" she grins.

"Oysters. Bagaduce, flown in fresh from Maine today," he declares proudly, tripping his fingers down over the ridges of Kate's spine.

"Mmm," hums Kate, tugging on his belt loop to bring him closer. "Where's your mom and Alexis?" she whispers, as Castle encircles her waist with his arm, sipping his champagne and trying to pretend that the little shimmy she's doing with her hips up against his stomach isn't doing it for him.

His body begs to differ with his brain and his stupid poker face, however. Epic fail on keeping that from her.

Kate's eyes sparkle mischievously when she feels the shift in his body, the tension that means he's trying to fight the arousal that's building within him.

"Those two can smell food from half a mile away," he deflects, using his hand to try to stop Kate from moving her hips so enticingly. "They might look skinny, but believe me, they can eat."

"Are you trying to put me off, Mr. Writer Man?" she teases, increasing her movement just to see how crazy she can drive him.

"I'm delaying sexual gratification. There's a distinct difference. You should be pleased that I'm learning to control my basic instincts, Kate."

"Oh, really?" laughs Kate, letting her hips dance in time to the music, a slow brush back and forth that seems to be undoing him right there in front of his dining room table.

Michael Bublé is crooning 'It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas' from the iPod dock, and Castle's eyes are fuzzing out with each slow pass of her jeans across the front of his, the fingers of his right hand gripping her left hip firmly, trying to hold her still.

"And yet…you're serving me a known aphrodisiac?" she grins, watching his face intently, enjoying the effect she has on him, loving that they get to tease one another like this now; so intimate, so close, no pretense, no need to hide the want in her eyes from him.

"_You're_ the only aphrodisiac _I_ need," he husks gruffly against her ear, hissing when she lets her tongue flick out to taste the warm, soft skin of his neck.

"And you think _I_ need more than _this_?" she asks, hips flirting up against him, her free hand sliding into the back pocket of his pants, fingers suggestively kneading his buttock, pulling him even closer.

* * *

"Ah, there you are," says Martha, loudly and obviously announcing herself, as she clatters down the stairs in a ridiculous pair of marabou trimmed, kitten heel slippers.

"_Mother_," exclaims Castle, quickly backing away from Kate, eyes wide at being caught smooching in his own living room.

_Why?_

Kate smirks at him, enjoying the look of panic she knows she helped to put on his face.

Martha is wearing a long purple and red, paisley print kaftan, over emerald green, sequined palazzo pants. She has a long sleeveless vest over the top; a swirling red and white chiffon that couldn't be more Martha is she tried. Large, colorful paste jewels adorn her neck and dangle heavily from her ears.

Kate feels distinctly underdressed, in her dark navy jeans and red sweater. She's saving the sartorial big guns for later.

"Where…um…where's Alexis?" asks Castle, hurrying to the kitchen to pour Martha a glass of champagne.

"Yes, we were just admiring the oysters," says Kate wickedly, smiling sweetly at her partner's mother, while she catches Castle's eye and winks at him. "Wouldn't want them…_warming up_," she adds, tugging on his sleeve to draw him back to her side.

"Oh, darling! Oysters. How _wonderful_," exclaims Martha, clinking glasses with Kate and her son, before turning greedy eyes on the display of juicy bivalves, their thick shells the color of alabaster, shiny and clear-eyed against a bed of crushed ice.

"And _caviar!_ Oh, Richard, you are _spoiling_ us this year," coos Martha, pinching her son's cheek, then swooping in to help herself to a tiny mother-of-pearl spoonful of the dark, glassy, fishy-flavored beads of sturgeon roe.

"I don't think your mother needs any help in the aphrodisiac department either," hisses Kate, squeezing his arm before heading to the kitchen to fetch more plates.

"_Seriously?_" moans Castle, trailing after her with a grimace. "You just _had_ to put that image in my head, didn't you?" he complains, while Kate laughs at him.

* * *

Alexis finally joins them, with a reminder of her earlier warning that she's going out with a friend later, and so won't be staying for the full duration of the Christmas movie marathon.

Martha makes some comment about her caroling group and the extra large batch of Glögg she made. But Castle's earlier anxiety that his _wonderful life_ is changing too dramatically this year is wiped from his mind by Kate's soothing fingers rhythmically stroking his thigh, as she offers him a spoonful of jet-black caviar from one of the tiny pearlized spoons. She follows her spoon-feeding by leaning in for a little fishy kiss, which ends with Castle spaying about twenty bucks worth of roe across the coffee table when she accidentally bites his tongue and they fall over one another laughing, nearly slipping off the leather sofa in the process.

They all load their plates up buffet style, and then settle on the couch, in armchairs, or on the floor in Alexis' case. She rests her back against the sofa right below where Kate is sitting with her legs drawn up beneath her, Castle pressed into her side; warmer than any mohair throw.

"Oh my. Miracle on 34th Street. I can't remember the last time I saw this?" exclaims Kate, settling into the cushions with a blissful look on her face.

It's the remake from 1994, with Richard Attenborough as a very convincing and cuddly-looking Kris Kringle, and a too cute, lispy little Mara Wilson as the adorably serious Susan.

"Wait, you love this movie?" asks Castle in surprise.

"Well…yeah? What's wrong with that?" asks Kate.

"Well, it's just that…"

"Just what, Castle. Spit it out."

"Well, what I mean is…"

"Mmm?" She arches her eyebrow, waiting.

"You _are_ Dorey Walker. When she says '_I believe Christmas is for children'_. She _is_ saying that she believes Kris is a fraud."

"Castle, it's just a movie," she says, bumping his shoulder lightheartedly.

"About whether or not Santa is real," he presses.

"_And_…we're back to this," sighs Kate, sagging against the couch cushions. "I thought we settled this with our own Kris Kringle case?"

"Oh no. No, _we_ did not settle anything. _You_ proved that one of Santa's earthly incarnations was shot out of a helicopter. Not the same thing," he says, shaking his head emphatically.

"Earthly incarnations?" repeats Kate with slow deliberation.

"We're going to church later. You have _no_ proof of that earthly incarnation, and yet you believe."

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just is," huffs Kate.

"That's your answer, _Detective?_" he smirks. "_It just is_? Would you accept something similarly vague from a suspect? Say, 'so you have no alibi for last night, Mr. Killer. Why should I believe it's the truth when you say you were home alone'? Because _it just is_?" he smirks again.

"Castle, just watch the damn movie," she growls, shifting sideways on the couch to put a couple of inches between them.

Castle tugs on her inner thigh, sliding her back towards him on the slippery leather cushions with barely any effort.

Kate huffs out a startled laugh, but allows him to snuggle in against her anyway. The argument is petty. Let him believe Santa is real if he wants to. What damage can it do?

* * *

He nudges her when the movie reaches its romantic climax, and she has to school the soppy grin that's spread all over her face.

'_Susan, what else did you ask Mr. Kringle for?_' asks the young girl's mother, fresh on the heels of landing her dream house and her dream man, complete with beautifully decorated Christmas tree.

"A baby brother. See ya," chime Alexis and Castle together, high-fiving and then dissolving into laughter at their synchronicity.

"How many times have you two watched this movie?" asks Kate, amazed that they know the words.

"Oh darling, you're just lucky they didn't act out the court scene like last year. Richard kept jumbling his lines and objecting to my direction. Then he and Alexis got into an argument. It took forever," says Martha, rising from the armchair she's been occupying to take her plate into the kitchen.

Alexis takes that as her cue too, and both women head upstairs to get ready to go out for the evening.

* * *

"So, looks like it's just us," whispers Castle, drawing Kate down onto the couch with him until they're both lying on their sides spooning.

The tree lights seem to sparkle more, now that the television screen is blank, and Kate's eyes dance over the many branches of the tree, picking out her own ornaments among the many Castle and Alexis always hang. There's an intimacy in sharing these traditions with them that she hadn't expected to feel comfortable with. But she does, and it lights her up from the inside.

"Penny for them," asks Castle, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, as he tightens his arms around her body.

"Oh…I was just…" she sighs, shrugging, before she nestles back against him, not sure how to explain how big all of this feels.

"Are you happy, Kate?" he whispers, nudging his nose against her curls.

"_Happy?_" she asks, shifting slightly so that she can see his face. "Y-yes. Yes, I'm happy. _You?_" she asks, her throat tight with a sudden flash of insecurity.

But she realizes that it's true; she is indeed happy for the first Christmas in many, many years. And it really is as simple as letting other people in; people that you love and care for.

"I'm ecstatic," he whispers against the shoulder of her sweater, rubbing his stubble against the soft fabric until it catches. The slight excited squeak in his voice indicates that he's telling the truth; he _is_ ecstatic.

"Trust you to go over the top…even with happiness," she grins, nudging him gently in the ribs.

"Care to let me take you into the bedroom and show you just how over the top I can be?" he leers, ever hopeful, his palm spreading warm and wide against her stomach.

"We have to meet the guys for church in less than an hour, and I still have to change."

"And we're back to delayed gratification," he sighs, pulling her closer anyway.

"You can come help me get dressed," she suggests, with a suggestive quirk of her eyebrow.

"Can I help you get undressed first?" he asks eagerly, fingers flexing against her abs, as if playing piano.

"_Deal_," she grins, covering his hand with her own to stop the tickle that's threatening to make her outright squirm.

"Last one to the bedroom loads the dishwasher," he declares, tipping Kate off the couch and onto the floor, and then sprinting past her towards the bedroom with a girly scream when she immediately gets up, scrambling to make chase.

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. I think maybe the lack of Caskett moments in Secret Santa depressed my mood slightly. __ Anyway, still dragging this story out shamelessly. Thank you to the reviewer who suggested a snack party as a Christmas Eve tradition. I can't find your name, but it was a great idea. Liv_


	12. Chapter 12 You're My Inspiration

Disclaimer: Mrs. Claus had a stack of legal books fall on her head. Santa's with her in A&E!

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 12: You're My Inspiration_**

_Monday December 24th – Sometime close to 11pm_

Her face is glowing and her hair is seriously mussed; the kind of tousled effect that's only achievable by having quick and dirty sex on top of Richard Castle's shiny, satin comforter.

His chest is heaving, he's naked from the waist up, but he has a pair of Christmas pudding boxer shorts twisted around one ankle and inexplicably seems to be wearing Kate's red lace panties braceleted around his right wrist.

"Did we just…?" she gasps, trying to sit upright before she does any more damage to her hair.

"Break another record?" he pants, nodding at her and grinning. He reaches for her ankle, and tugs gently just to mess with her, making her slide helplessly across the quilt towards him.

Their faces and chests are flushed with the quick bout of exertion; the naked hunger they just gave into, despite the fact that they're now seriously short on time.

"How long have you been holding _that_ back?" he scoffs, running his finger up the inside of her thigh. Because she just came in like forty-five seconds flat, and managed to get him so turned on by her desperation to have him that he broke the sound barrier at forty-seven point three.

"Since you fed me that damn oyster and then started running your fingers up and down my thigh…rather like you're doing right now. Rick, _stop!_" she squeals, grabbing at his hand. "We have to get up. _Now!_ And…"

She stumbles off the bed and into the bathroom before he can touch her up anymore.

He hears her exclamation without seeing her.

"Oh crap! I seriously need a shower, and…_Castle, get in here_," she calls out, her insistent tone dragging him off the bed and into the bathroom, tripping over his own underwear as he goes.

"What is this?" she asks, pointing at her left breast and glaring at him in the mirror, trying to aim for stern despite her deliciously sex-rumpled appearance and utter nakedness.

"Ah, could be teeth marks. Best case…I just sucked a little too hard," he explains matter-of-factly.

"You…you _sucked_ too hard? What about my dress for tomorrow? My…my…jeez, Castle. My top for tonight is…" she splutters, touching the rather vicious-looking, red mark tentatively.

"We're going to church, Kate. Not a hooker's convention. How low cut is this top?" he asks, eyes bugging out at the possibilities. Because he's already seen her dressed as a hooker, and shit if it isn't one of the hottest damn things he's ever seen.

"Just…get in the shower with me, and…_be helpful_," she warns, narrowing her eyes at him.

"_That's_ my punishment?" he queries, puzzling. "To share a shower with you?" he laughs.

"No. Your punishment is having to watch me wash myself and not be able to touch…except for my back, which you will scrub with a loofah. Now hand me my shower cap!"

* * *

Kate does what she can with her hair, but it's a bit of a lost cause, despite the large floral shower cap she insisted on wearing, while Castle hummed 'Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep' under his breath just to mock her.

"Ahh!" she rants, tossing down her brush on the vanity and hurrying into the bedroom.

"Hey," says Castle softly, catching her arm. "What's up?"

"We absolutely cannot be late for this, Castle. We're meeting Lanie and Javi and Jenny and Ryan. Your mother and Alexis are joining us, and they've already seen my hair. I cannot show up looking like we just had _sex_ in the back of your car right outside the church," she finishes, looking flushed and flustered and maybe just a little panicked.

"You will look beautiful, Kate, like always," he tells her, massaging knots as hard as shell casings out of her shoulders. "Now, why don't you wear your hair up? So elegant, and it accentuates your beautiful neck. And besides, I have one gift I want you to open before we go."

"Castle," she moans, shaking her head. "What have you done, we said…?"

"It's tradition. One gift…"

"Yes, before _bed_. Not _church_," she shakes her head, biting her lip, still holding onto him.

"_Pah!_ That's just…_timing_," he says, waving his hand dismissively behind her back.

* * *

So Kate re-applies her make-up, keeping her touch lighter tonight, less heavy on the liquid liner since they're going to Midnight Mass, and then she dresses as she had planned, hoping her shirt will conceal the red mark that seems in no hurry to disappear from the inner curve of her left breast.

The black pantsuit is brand new, bought many months ago as a possible outfit for Ryan and Jenny's wedding. It's been hanging in her closet at home, waiting for the perfect excuse to give it an audience. Tonight just seemed like that night.

The cut is sharp and masculine; skinny cigarette pants and a tailored tuxedo jacket in a lightweight wool crepe, the jacket adorned by silk satin lapels. The lining is a vibrant purple - her favorite color – and the blouse she bought to wear underneath is a crisp, white, wing-collared tuxedo shirt; cut for a woman's body, closely fitted, with a pleated bib front and tiny black buttons. The whole effect is stunningly sexy, and seems to add to Kate's overall impression of supermodel height; her legs rising endlessly from the floor once she adds black platform heels.

"Holy cannoli!" exclaims Castle, leaning on the bedroom doorframe with eyes of wonder. "You might just be…no scratch the might. You _are definitely_, the sexiest thing I have ever seen, Katherine Beckett."

Kate smiles shyly, fussing with the neckline of her shirt, three buttons or four left open? She's still not sure.

He's by her side in an instant, helping her to fasten up just one more button, the effect just slightly more demure, though there is absolutely no way to tame this woman's sexuality tonight.

"Helping me put clothes back on, Castle?" she teases, trying to remember to breathe as she watches him fumble the tiny button, so heart-stoppingly close. "How novel," she grins, feeling herself blush, his cologne making her giddy.

"I look at you, standing here tonight, almost towering over me in those heels," he jokes, to a nervous giggle from Kate, "and I feel as if I must be the luckiest, happiest guy alive. You take my breath away, Kate Beckett, and I don't imagine that's ever going to stop."

Kate lowers her lashes, clutching at his hand, and then she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"Feeling's mutual, you know," she says, nudging his nose with her own, words just loud enough for him to hear, as she tugs lightly on the front of his dress shirt, her thumb making soft, tender sweeps beneath his right eye.

And her words are the absolute truth. Castle, standing framed in that doorway, did take her breath away. He looks tall and masculine and unspeakably handsome in the dark navy suit he's wearing, a festive red dress shirt heightening the color his own excitement has given to his cheeks. He looks healthy and happy, well rested. Well cared for, in fact. And she's proud that she can claim some small part in that.

Gone is the haunted look from both their eyes, the grief and the weight that their secrets placed on weary shoulders, since the night she took her courage in both hands and gave herself over to him. That truly was the best decision she ever made: choosing to trust him completely. They've never looked back.

* * *

Castle brings his hand out from behind his back, as Kate gathers herself, leaning in to kiss him just one more time before they have to leave.

A dark purple box is nestled in one hand, a silver ribbon tied around the outside, the edges of the ribbon trimmed in purple too.

Kate stares at the box for whole seconds, until Castle reaches for her hand, turns it palm up and plants the box in the center of it, closing her fingers around the gift.

"Open it, Kate," he urges, pressing it towards her. "We don't have much time," he adds, quickly checking his watch.

She sits on the bed, sinks down really, a little overwhelmed, and then she begins the task of unwrapping the first Christmas gift her boyfriend has ever given her.

When the lid of the box comes off, there's a dark purple velvet box nestled inside, and she withdraws it with shaking fingers. Castle is sitting beside her now, silent and watchful.

She strokes her index finger over the velvet lid just once, and then takes a deep breath. When she opens it, with a snap of the hinges, she's glad she did, because the jewels inside take her breath away.

Lying against a velvet pad are two long, drop earrings; an elegant row of interlinked, round brilliant diamonds, seven in each earring, all the exact same size, set in an articulated, platinum setting. They snake when she holds them up, shimming from side-to-side, and they will move just as freely when suspended from Kate's ears.

She's speechless, that much is obvious from the shallowness of her breathing and the rapid pound of her blood, though her shining eyes and reverent touch say it all.

So Castle liberates the first earring from the box, and gently tilts her jaw, inserting the small post into her earlobe and fixing the little butterfly back in place for her. Then he leans back to admire his own handiwork.

Kate manages the second one by herself, so Castle hurries to the bathroom to fetch his small shaving mirror.

Her hand flies to her throat when she sees the two earrings sparkling beneath the curling tendrils of hair that she left floating loose, escaping the chignon she hopes works with her outfit. The diamonds shiver and glint, casting tiny rainbows of light against the pale, flawless skin of her neck.

And Castle was right; wearing her hair up with this outfit and his beautiful gift is definitely the way to go. The monochrome of her stark black suit and sharp white shirt are the perfect backdrop for these elegant, stunning earrings. She can hardly tear her eyes away from their twinkling majesty.

"Oh, Castle," she says, blindly reaching for his hand, but only managing to grip onto his wrist. "These are…_beautiful_. So _very_ beautiful. Thank you. But you shouldn't have."

"Hey, someone mentioned jewelry a little while back," he winks, "and what my girl wants…"

"She didn't mean these, just for the record," she says, continuing to admire her reflection regardless, twisting her head this way and that to catch the light and watch the earrings sway with the movement of her head.

"Kate, I'm only going to remind you of this once. But the truth is that Nicki Heat only exists because of you. And _nothing_ I could ever give you would make up for the thrill you've given me as a writer and as your partner over the last four years. So, please," he says, standing and offering her his arm, "shall we go to church?"

_A/N: Some of you may have seen KB's bathroom set, complete with frou-frou shower cap. If not, the photo is on ABC's website, disguised among photos of her kitchen. Church with the gang is next, I promise. Liv_


	13. Chapter 13 Ring The Bells

Disclaimer: Mrs. Claus is resting comfortably. Her compo claim is in the hands of lawyers.

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 13: Ring The Bells**_

"_Ring The Bells That Still Can Ring,_

_Forget Your Perfect Offering,_

_There Is A Crack in Everything,_

_That's How The Light Gets In"_

– '_Anthem', Leonard Cohen._

___Monday December 24th – 11.37pm_

By the time they reach the street in front of Castle's building, the car service is waiting for them, his plan to drive them both to church abandoned the second they hit the shower together and the scant time they already didn't have dissolved in the glacial flow of scented foam down Kate's back.

The driver holds the door open for Kate, and she slides inside the black Mercedes S-Class, her long purple coat just grazing the snowy sidewalk as she ducks her head to get inside, bouncing on the cream leather interior to straighten out the back of her heavy winter coat before the car pulls away from the curb.

Castle climbs in from the street side - a vision in navy cashmere - slipping on a patch of black ice in his Italian, leather-soled shoes, barely managing to catch himself on the doorframe.

"Slippery out tonight, Sir," warns the driver, somewhat redundantly, now that Castle is settled in the back of the luxury sedan beside Kate.

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed," he says dryly, rolling his eyes at Kate. "Saint Patrick's Cathedral, please," Castle instructs the driver, wincing when Kate pokes him in the ribs for being grumpy with the driver.

"You wouldn't speak to Dan like that," she scolds, referring to his usual driver.

"Because Dan wouldn't say something so obviously dumb," he whispers back, giving her a smile however to let her know that he heard her and he's going to be good from now on.

This is the first Christmas Eve that the gang from the Precinct, plus Lanie, have all managed to get time off together. Since Ryan wanted to maintain his Midnight Mass tradition, and the rest of the guys were going to different church services anyway, they all agreed to meet up in Midtown to do it big style this year with the full choir of St. Pat's to rock the rafters.

* * *

"You okay?" asks Castle, dragging his eyes away from the spectacular display of lights on the trees and the blue-white glow from the ice rink in Bryant Park, as they speed up Sixth Avenue relatively unhindered by traffic at this late hour.

Kate is staring out the opposite side of the car, mindlessly watching decorated store and office windows speed by, her right knee bouncing up and down, while she taps out a staccato beat on top of her thigh with red lacquered nails.

"I _hate_ to be late," she whispers, as if saying the words any louder will bring this fear to pass.

"Relax. We're making good time," he tells her, peering between the front seats to check the traffic flow up ahead, tangling their fingers together to stop her anxious drumming.

She looks over at him the second he touches her, a warm, thankful smile spreading on her face.

"I know. Just ignore me," she says, squeezing his hand.

"You really think Gates will show?" asks Castle after a beat, divining the real reason for her nerves.

"H—how do you _do_ that?" she asks, grinning at him and shaking her head slowly, her earrings dancing from side-to-side.

"Wow! You should see the sparkle from those diamonds right now," exclaims Castle, the twinkling lights out on the street catching every facet, sending radiant sparks of light across Kate's cheeks, shoulders, and up onto the roof in the darkened interior of the car.

"Not answering my question, Mr. Castle," she chides, tugging on his hand. "How'd you know I was nervous about Gates?"

"Maybe because I'm a little nervous too?" he confesses, lifting her hand to his lips and grazing her gloved knuckles with a kiss.

"Okay, then how about you tell me why _you're_ nervous, and then I'll share too," she offers, in yet another display of openness.

"You first."

"Why _me_? It was my suggestion."

"You're the lady. Ladies go first. That's what my mom taught me. Good manners."

"Oh, no. Do _not_ drag your mother into this," she scoffs, knowing he just wants to hear her share her fears so that he can edit his accordingly.

"Okay," he agrees, shifting in his seat so that their knees are almost touching across the expanse of the Merc's back seat.

He clears his throat, rubs a hand over his mouth, and then…

"Castle, come on. Out with it, before we get there already. Quit stalling."

"It's our first Christmas together, _and_ I want to be able to…"

"Hold your hand," interjects Kate, squeezing his fingers.

"Are you going first, or am I?" he laughs, giving her a raised eyebrow stare.

Kate laughs too, shakes her head, and then nods for him to continue.

"I want to be able to, _yes_, hold your hand, and show you _off_ in front of all of our friends and family. Not worry that Iron Gates is going to see us exchanging a kiss, instead of shaking hands like platonic co-workers, during the sign of peace."

"Okay, first off, you are _not_ kissing me in church, Castle."

"The Italians do it," he argues.

"We're American, last I checked."

"It's Christmas Eve, Midnight Mass, Kate. _Everyone_ will be kissing," he tries again.

"Then so will Gates, thus blowing your argument out of the water."

"Okay, Miss Know-It-All, then why are _you_ so worried?"

Kate pauses for a second, and he can see her eyes sparkling almost as brilliantly as the diamond earrings, a mischievous, press-lipped smile on her face.

"For exactly the same reasons as you?" she blurts, letting out a joyful peel of laughter that catches Castle by surprise and crinkles the corners of her eyes, stealing the breath from his lungs with her adorableness.

"_Fraud_," he fake-grouches, jabbing her in the thigh.

"Ouch! That's your beloved you just poked."

"Damn right it is," he growls, leaning over to capture her jaw with leather-clad fingers, and press a long, slow kiss against her cool, pink lips.

* * *

Kate tumbles against him when the car makes a sharp righthand turn into West 52nd Street, before doubling back to head down Fifth Avenue towards the Cathedral, her seatbelt just catching her by the shoulder and more or less keeping her in place.

"This guy's a pain in the ass," mutters Castle, holding her elbow to steady her, until she can right herself properly.

"Not long now," says Kate, placating, as she straightens up her scarf and flexes her fingers inside her purple leather gloves.

"_So_, Gates. How do you want to handle it? She's your boss after all."

"Hope she doesn't show? That would be Plan A," suggests Kate, with a shrug.

"Well, that's bound to fail, now that we've given it oxygen," he says dryly. "So, what's Plan B?"

"Ignore her presence, if she _is_ there. And by ignore, I don't mean be rude. I just mean…I mean you're _right_," says Kate, taking up his hand again and drawing it into her lap. "This _is_ our first Christmas Eve together, so I _will_ be holding your hand, partner," she tells him quietly, but determinedly, twisting the thumb of his black leather glove between her fingertips. "And I want us to be able to sit with Alexis and your mom and be…_natural_. Not pretend to be anything other than what we are."

"Family?"

"Mmm," she hums, glancing at him shyly. "A little weird, but yeah, a family of sorts."

* * *

The car pulls to a halt on the opposite side of the street from the church, before Castle has any time to respond to Kate's heartfelt admission.

A long line of black limousines are already clogging up the roadway directly in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral, as the good, and the not so good, arrive to see and be seen in this particular church on Christmas Eve night.

When Kate steps out onto the sidewalk, the driver offers her his hand, and she takes it gratefully, transferring over to Castle's arm the second he rounds the car to join her at her side.

"You ready?" he asks, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, playfully bumping her shoulder to raise a smile.

"Yes. Let's just go and enjoy this. I always loved a Midnight service, and to have everyone here with us…"

Her eyes dart across the street to the entrance to the Catherdral, and she sees Lanie and Alexis standing at the top of the steps waving over at them.

"Rick?" she says softly, stopping him before they can attempt to cross the road.

"Yes? You got everything?" asks Castle, glancing back at the car.

"This past year, we had _so_ _many_ ups and downs, and I just…to have _this_…" she tries to explain, leaning into him with the full weight of her body, hoping her words are enough. "Yes, I have everything I need right here," she nods, wrapping her other hand around his bicep and holding on tight.

"Then let's go," he whispers, throat tight with everything she did and didn't have to say.

* * *

They dodge between two idling limos, blacked out windows concealing the passengers inside, before Kate spies Anna Wintour, fashion legend and editor-in-chief of American Vogue, daintily exiting one of the cars, aided by the larger-than-life, equally famous, and endlessly flamboyant, Andre Leon Talley.

"Did you see…?" hisses Kate, nudging Castle as they head for the steps, eyes blinking as a bank of paparazzi flashes explode on the sidewalk.

But the only person Castle has eyes for is his stunning girlfriend, although it isn't lost on him that both Wintour and Talley are drawn to Kate too, following her passage with appraising eyes - this statuesque, self-effacing beauty - and his heart swells with pride.

"Hey, Lanie. Hi, Alexis," greets Kate warmly, accepting hugs from both women. "Where's your grams?" she asks Castle's daughter, while her boyfriend gives her best friend a loud, smacking kiss on both cheeks, and then has her squealing when he lifts the tiny woman off her feet in a huge bear hug.

"Richard Castle, if you know what's good for you, you will put me down this instant," she insists, though Kate can see right through her, she's loving the attention the writer is giving her, and who wouldn't? When Richard Castle focuses his attention on you, you know _all_ about it.

"Grams is inside already, helping Jenny and Ryan keep seats for us."

"Great. Great, then shall we?" asks Kate, looking at three of the people she cares most for in the world.

"Eh, there's just one thing," says Lanie, taking hold of Kate's arm.

"What is it? Javi running late?" asks Kate, looking around them for Lanie's on-off boyfriend.

"No. He made it on time for a change. We left him hoochie-coochie-ing up to your mother, trying out some of his Latin smooth," she tells Castle dryly, trying to look unimpressed.

"Dear God, she'll eat him alive," exclaims Castle, peering anxiously into the church, and getting an eye roll from Alexis.

"No, it's…"

"_What_, Lanie? The service starts in ten minutes," Kate hurries her, anxious to take their seats.

"Captain Gates is inside," confesses Alexis, while Lanie nods and winces beside her.

"She's with her husband and some fussy lookin', old…"

"_The mother-in-law_," interject Kate and Castle at exactly the same time, earning a slack-mouthed stare from the M.E.

"You guys are made for each other," exclaims Lanie, before turning to Alexis and adding, "Did _you_ see that? What they did there. They've been doin' that party trick for the last four years in my morgue. Freaks me out!"

"You should see them at home," Alexis tells her boss. "Cuter than Taylor Swift. It's disgusting."

"Eh, guys. _Guys?_" interrupts Kate, reminding them they have a small crisis on their hands.

"Oh, yeah. So Gates…she's about five rows behind us, so we were thinking, if we just mix it up a little on the way in, give her a wave, and then hopefully she'll forget all about you two and your ridiculous, loved-up behavior once we're in our seats."

"We could split up?" suggests Castle, when he sees Kate's dubious expression. "Put Alexis or mother in between us?"

"Castle, we already talked about this. We are _not_ splitting up," insists Kate, rejoining him by his side. "We can walk in as a group, but as soon as the service starts, we pretend like she's not even there. Promise?"

"Okay. If you're sure?"

"I am. Now let's go," says Kate, determinedly.

* * *

Lanie stops her with a hand to her arm once they're inside the back of the church.

"Honey, I don't think I've ever seen you looking more beautiful or more radiant than you look tonight. Even goddamn Anna Wintour keeps staring over at you, girl, like she wants to sign you up for the next Vogue cover."

Kate blushes, but thanks her friend anyway, keeping one eye on Castle as he hugs and murmurs to Alexis.

"He loves the bones of you, that man," she whispers to her friend. "And you might _think_ you can hide it from Gates, but the way you two look together…I'd say it's pretty much a lost cause. A blind man could see how in love you two are. So, just relax, Kate, and enjoy this. We all have a lot to be thankful for this year," she reminds her pointedly.

Kate squeezes her friend's hand in thanks, nodding her agreement. "Never a truer word, Lanie," she says, as they form a tight knit little group, finally ready to go and take their seats.

_A/N: So I broke another promise…kind of. They are technically inside the church now. The chapter was just going to get way too long if I didn't split it. Hope you're still with me? Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. Liv_


	14. Chapter 14 Adeste Fideles

Disclaimer: Who knew the North Pole had its own legal system...

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 14: Adeste Fideles_**

_Monday December 24th – Close to Midnight_

The scent of incense; it's the first thing that hits her. Incense and the familiar feel of her partner's hand at her back.

Castle has wrapped his fingers around the belt of her purple coat, and the intermittent tug she feels when she gets too far ahead of him, or the nudge of his large, bony knuckles into her spine, make her smile and her heart contract. Because both sensations – the push and pull - telegraph the feeling of being wanted by him, needed, connected together.

The incense is heady, overpowering even; a rich mélange of salty, smoky, glowing embers that smoulder, reminiscent of a hundred spent matches, and the musky, spicy, aromatic perfume that is so evocative of the exotic Orient, a spice market in Marrakesh, a souk in Tangier.

The fragrant smoke fills her nostrils, making her a little lightheaded, as it curls through the church, leaving a blue-grey haze, heavy like smog, hanging over the heads of the congregation.

The second thing she notices is the charged atmosphere; the cathedral's echoing, vaulted corners filled up with the low, expectant hum of many chattering voices; like theater-goers waiting for the orchestra to tune up, the curtains to open on the corps de ballet, the opera star, the company of players. The excitement is infectious, and Kate squeezes Alexis' hand tighter, tugs on Lanie's arm to keep her close as they move away from the doors at the back of the church.

The third thing that strikes her, promptly stopping her in her tracks, is the nativity scene. It is _huge_, so lifelike, and suitably impressive for a church of this size: the home of the Catholic Archdiocese of New York City. The statues of the holy family are life-size, the roof of the wooden stable structure is clad in fresh branches of rich, dark evergreen, and the floor is layered with sweet, golden hay. There are sheep and oxen, a camel even, and the angel Gabriel hovers above the scene, spot-lit beneath the overhanging stable roof.

"Isn't it cool?" whispers Alexis, tugging on Kate's hand to lead her down the central aisle.

"We are _so_ upgrading our nativity next year," hisses Castle at her back, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine at the thought of _next year_ already.

* * *

As they travel slowly towards the front of the church with Alexis leading the way, Kate spots a few faces she knows in the congregation. There are plenty of cops scattered among the crowd; people she's worked alongside over the years, met at funerals, drank in cop bars with before she made detective, and she raises her hand to acknowledge a few as she passes by, even spotting the NYPD's Chief of Detectives, Phil Pulaski, a few rows further down.

Mayor Bloomberg is in the front row, alongside Cardinal Dolan, and the former Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Egan. Kate spots the Police Commissioner, Ray Kelly, in the row behind them, standing beside his wife, Veronica. As is typical of the snappy-dressing Commissioner, he's wearing a bespoke navy suit and an eye-catching silk necktie by his favorite, high-end, French label, Charvet. Other wealthy, powerful, influential figures from the worlds of business, finance and politics litter the front few pews of the church, where seating is reserved for specially invited guests, though there is a good smattering of influence throughout the congregation as a whole.

Kate feels Castle's fingers pressing into her spine at the same time as Lanie's grip tightens on her arm.

"Iron Gates, your ten o'clock," hisses Castle, and Kate's head snaps to the left, as she tries to school her features, keep looking nonchalant and relaxed, even although she feels neither of these things at this moment.

People stare and whisper occasionally, as their little group makes its way down the center of the church. The odd person spots Castle first, and points, eyes quickly seeking out 'Nicki Heat' as soon as they recognize the author and his attractive muse. Kate isn't too keen on the scrutiny, though she has attracted attention since she was in high school for her striking looks and her height. But it's the knowing, familiar gaze of her Captain settling upon all of them that catches her breath most noticeably, sending her heart rate rising instantly, from 'resting' to 'fast jog in the park'.

Kate raises her gloved hand to give her boss a quick wave of acknowledgement, and then she ducks her head in a matching, formal little head-nod.

Castle stumbles a little, knocking into her back at the most inopportune moment, and she drops Alexis' hand, stretching behind her to catch him by the elbow until they can resume their procession a few rows further down, people swirling around them all the while as everyone tries to find their seat at the last moment.

* * *

Alexis edges into the pew first, squeezing between the leather kneeler and the wooden bench, since Ryan is bowed down in silent contemplation beside his wife, head lowered, eyes closed, midway along the row. Esposito and Martha are chatting quietly, and Espo's face lights up as soon as he sees the rest of the gang arriving.

Kate slides in next, with Lanie at her back, followed lastly by Castle. The image of Gates' eyes boring into them is singed onto Kate's brain, and she's still too flustered to register the shuffling going on in their little pack, as Javi edges past her to sit beside Lanie, and Castle finally bumps her shoulder, after switching with the M.E.

The church is so warm with this many bodies packed into the massive space, and Kate squirms to get out of her heavy winter coat, grateful for Castle's helping hands. She feels instantly cooler, freer, in just her tuxedo jacket, her scarf and gloves safely tucked in the tiny shelf in front of her.

She feels his hand reach for hers once they are seated, hips and thighs pressed together, the solid warmth of his body as reassuring as a Glock at her hip.

"You doing okay?" he whispers, keeping his head focused forwards, fingers pulsing against hers in a comforting cycle of squeeze and release.

"Mmm," hums Kate, nodding, eyes swiveling to the side to look at him. "Did you see her clocking us?"

"Did you see the _monster-in-law_?" hisses Castle in response, tugging on her hand. "If Gates is _Chucky_, she's _got_ to be _Freddie Krueger_," he pantomimes, earning a quick jostle in the arm and a giggle from Lanie.

"_Behave_," chides Kate, though she's unable to suppress the smile his comment draws from her, because Gates' mother-in-law _does_ look all kinds of scary.

* * *

A hush falls over the assembled crowd of devout parishioners, invited guests, vacationers, and non-believers alike, and then the powerful Gallery Organ below the Rose Window comes alive with the opening strains of the familiar tune to '_O' Come All Ye Faithful'_.

And so they rise as one, shoulder-to-shoulder, this tight-knit little group of friends, far closer, more loved shared between them, than a lot of families related by blood.

There's a loud shuffling of feet, creaking of furniture, and a rifling of hymnals, and then finally the sweet, angelic voices of the Cathedral choir drift out into the air with the Latin opener, '_Adeste Fideles'_.

Kate feels Castle shift in surprise beside her, as he holds up the worn, red leather hymnal between them so that they can share. But she keeps her chin up, eyes on the altar instead of the tissue thin pages, her voice rich, harmonic and strong.

She knows ever word by heart, in Latin, and she sings them with more feeling that he ever thought possible. It's beautiful and it's her, and he wonders why these discoveries even surprise him any more.

"_Adeste fideles laeti triumphantes, _

_Venite, venite in Bethlehem." _

Yellow-thumb marks measure the passage of time on every page of the hymnal, and Kate curls her fingers around his left wrist, helping to support the weight of the book with him.

_Partners_.

* * *

Once the priest who is to celebrate this Midnight Mass, together with the group of angelic altar boys, have made their way from the back of the Cathedral to the altar, everyone settles into their seats, and the service commences.

As Kate turns to watch them process down the aisle, she catches a glimpse of Captain Gates looking towards them, and she quickly turns away after acknowledging the woman's brief nod with a hesitant, worried smile.

The first reading is delivered by a nervous looking man in a little pair of round, tortoiseshell-framed glasses, a yellow bowtie, and a professorial, tweed sport coat with leather patches on the elbows. He reads surprisingly fluently from Isaiah 9:1-6.

"_The people who walked in darkness_

_have seen a great light;_

_upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom_

_a light has shone._

_You have brought them abundant joy_

_and great rejoicing…"_

Kate reaches for Castle's warm fingers as the words echo in her mind, strike a cord, and weave their healing around her heart. _She_ walked in darkness for years before she met him, and in a way Richard Castle is _her_ savior, _her_ light, _her_ joy.

* * *

Castle turns his head to smile at the gentle caress of her hand, the way her fingers burrow into his palm, seeking him out, his touch, his warmth, her hand firmly gripped in his. Things are working out far better than he could ever have hoped. Kate is here with him on Christmas Eve, holding his hand in church, beside his daughter and his mother. He feels as if there is nothing in life he couldn't achieve now if he set to his mind to it. Because he set his heart on Kate Beckett, and here she is standing beside him like a Christmas miracle made flesh, holding onto his hand, as if there's nowhere else on earth she would rather be.

The gospel story is from Luke 2:1-14, The Adoration of the Shepherds, and it follows several other readings from carefully selected parishioners and one precocious child.

"_You will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes_

_and lying in a manger."_

_And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:_

"_Glory to God in the highest_

_and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests." _

The priest then delivers the homily, relating the theme of the readings and the gospel to the times they are all living in, to the modern world, to the soldiers serving overseas at this time of year, separated far from their families.

* * *

Eventually they rise to recite the Lord's Prayer, the Our Father, and then the time arrives for the _rite of peace_.

All around them people are turning to shake hands with complete strangers, to hug friends and family, to kiss loved ones, and Kate and Castle are suddenly frozen, like two Roman statues, staring at one another.

"You said I couldn't kiss you in church," Castle finally says, sticking his hand out to shake hers, while Esposito kisses Lanie loudly behind his back, and the M.E. giggles.

"Turns out I say a lot of stupid things," grins Kate, staring into his eyes. "Lucky I have you to keep me straight," she adds, sliding her hand up to his shoulder to steady herself, before she reaches up to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

"Peace be with you, Kate," he whispers, when he can look into her eyes once more.

They lean against one another for a couple of seconds, breathing together, cheeks touching, before the maelstrom of activity around them breaks them apart, and then Alexis is hugging Kate, and Lanie is kissing Castle, and Javier is reaching for both of them, dragging them into an unruly group hug.

But the only people Captain Gates notices in the melee happening around _her,_ are her star detective and the mystery writer she has grudgingly come to respect; two still figures, wrapped up in one another like the couple in the famous photograph, '_Unconditional Surrender'_, captured on camera on V-J Day in Times Square; completely oblivious to the rest of the world carrying on around them.

* * *

Kevin, Jenny and Lanie go to receive Communion, while the rest of the gang remain in their seats, lost in their own private thoughts, as they watch the steady flow of parishioners down all three aisles. Eventually, the choir strikes up again with the beautiful hymn, '_Silent Night, Holy Night_', and those still in their seats rise to join in the singing.

Kate finds the correct page in the hymnal, and then she holds the book out between her and Castle, ready to share. This time he slides his arm around her back, drawing her up against his side, and she feels the last vestiges of resistance melting away as she lets herself lean against him, her voice barely faltering as his fingers flex against her waist.

His voice is deep, melodic, and she feels the low rumble coming from his chest and vibrating against her whole body. When her eyes slip closed, he whispers, "Don't go to sleep on me yet," against her hair, making her shiver.

Kate nudges him playfully, and straightens up to carry on singing. "Got plans for me, Mr. Castle?" she teases, once the carol ends.

"Maybe. Can't say in church," he winks, releasing his grip on her waist, and regaining her hand instead, both of them unwilling and completely unable to stop touching.

* * *

The service ends pretty quickly after that. The priest finishes with the concluding words, "_Go in peace_," to which the congregation responds, "_Thanks Be to God_."

Then everyone is on their feet for the final hymn, "Away In A Manger".

"_Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,_

_the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head._

_The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,_

_the little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay."_

By the end of the first verse, the priest, altar boys, and other celebrants have passed up the aisle to the back of the Cathedral, and then it's only a matter of time before people start to file out, following them.

Progress is slow, since there are so many people packed inside. Kate wraps up in her coat again, anticipating the sharp crack of cold, frosty air on her face. Castle playfully drapes her scarf around her neck for her, bundling her up as if dressing a helpless child. He frees tendrils of hair from where it's caught at the back, and then he tucks the fringed ends of the scarf inside the lapels of her purple coat.

"You fixing me?" she teases, repeating the same task for him with a long scarf made of soft red cashmere.

"Guys, our turn," warns Lanie, as it reaches their opportunity to exit into the main aisle. "Quit your fussin' you two. It's all kinds of adorable, but Gates is only a few paces up ahead."

"Gates can go…" Castle is mouthing in Kate's ear, after he ushers her out ahead of him, hands on her waist.

"Ahem, still in church," Kate reminds him, with a light jab of her elbow to his stomach.

She grabs Alexis' hand and lets Martha go ahead of her so that they don't get lost in the crush.

Once they reach the steps, Kate stops in wonder, and Castle knocks into her back, crushing her to his chest to stop them from toppling over.

"Look," she whispers, pointing upwards towards the black velvet sky. "It's snowing."

And it is, thick, fat flakes that drift slowly to earth, or get whisked sideways by the cold, chilling breeze.

* * *

"_Detective?_"

Kate hears the authoritative call, but doesn't see its owner until her partner at her back points down towards the sidewalk.

Several people in the crowd are staring at them, whispering behind their hands, once it becomes apparent just who this particular Detective is.

"Gates is calling for you," Castle sing songs, smiling a little crazily.

Like she isn't going to make him come down there with her, silly man.

"I'm pretty sure she means you too," she replies, reaching behind her for his hand.

"Oh, no. No, no, _you_ are on your _own_ for this one, Kate. I've got mother and Alexis to…" he protests.

"What happened to partners?" grins Kate, enjoying the look of absolute terror on his face.

"Dad, we can all go," suggests Alexis, linking arms with Kate. "Maybe she'll let me intern at the Precinct next summer," she muses. "You can get me in, _right_?" she grins, bumping shoulders with Kate.

"Not happening," Castle calls out, reluctantly trailing after them.

* * *

Captain Victoria Gates is standing beside a tall, distinguished gentleman in a dark overcoat, and on her other side is a small, grumpy looking woman with a permanent scowl on her face, as if she smelled something bad back in 1982 and it hasn't quite gone away yet.

"Merry Christmas, Sir," says Kate breathlessly, shaking her boss' hand. "Lovely service."

"It was indeed, Detective," agrees Gates. "Ralph, can I introduce you to one of my finest teams?" she says somewhat proudly, turning to address her patient-looking husband. "This is Detective Kate Beckett and her partner, the crime writer, Richard Castle."

Castle steps forward to shake Ralph Gates' hand after Kate, and then there remains the tricky subject of old Mrs. Gates.

"Beckett, Mr. Castle, my mother-in-law, Ida Gates," says the Captain, barely able to conceal her distain for the woman behind a thin-lipped smile.

Kate re-introduces Martha and Alexis to her boss, and then the group splits up, leaving the women chatting together, while Castle converses with Ida and Ralph.

Gates' eyes go wide when she hears a snorting giggle emanating from her husband's tiny terror of a mother at some joke or other that Castle has just made.

The woman has her fat little, bejeweled fingers pressed against her mouth in mirth, and she looks like she's about to bust a gut holding her laughter in.

Gates finally gets Kate alone, like a wolf separating a stray lamb off from the herd.

"I see you and Mr. Castle have a lot to celebrate this Christmas," she says, looking Kate straight in the eye.

Though there's a glint of teasing humor in those dark chocolate eyes, Kate is too flustered to pick up on it.

"Sir, I can…I can explain," Kate begins, toeing the ground with her shoe and shifting uncomfortably, wishing her mind hadn't gone spectacularly blank right now.

"Kate," says Gates quietly, resting her hand on the detective's arm. "Just enjoy this Christmas with his family. And think yourself damn lucky you get Martha Rogers for a mother-in-law," she adds sotto voce, nostrils flaring and eyebrows shooting heavenward as she jerks her head towards a still guffawing Ida.

The little group begin to say their goodbyes.

"The man certainly has a way with women, I'll give him that," mutters Gates as a parting shot to Kate, wryly shaking her head at Castle, as he continues to charm the pants off her mother-in-law.

* * *

The car service is waiting for them on the Rockefeller Center side of the street. They gather there with Lanie and Javier, Jenny and Kevin having already said their farewells and headed home.

"So, what'd Gates say?" asks Lanie, eyes full of concern for her friend. "And are those _real diamonds, Kate Beckett_?" she blurts, reaching up to stroke her friend's earrings.

Kate shakes her head in disbelief, only adding to the spectacular display her jewels are giving off, as Lanie stares, mesmerized, at her ears.

"She told me to enjoy Christmas with Castle's family. That...that I'm _lucky_ I have Martha as a _mother-in-law_," she adds in a whisper, so Castle won't hear.

"Your _mother-in-law_?" exclaims Esposito loudly, to violent shushing from Kate and Lanie.

"Did I hear someone taking my name in vain?" queries Martha, arriving on Castle's arm, along with Alexis.

"Eh, no," lies Kate. "We were just…talking about Ida," she rushes out, giving herself away by blushing despite the cold.

Castle raises an eyebrow at her, but decides to let it drop for now.

"Well, you guys, we should really get going," says Lanie, taking Espo's arm.

Kate smiles at the bashful pair.

"Yeah, we got some place we gotta be," adds Javi mysteriously, squeezing Lanie's hand in the crook of his arm, as she gazes up at him all smitten and coy. "Stockings to open, right, mi amor?" he grins, eyes only for the M.E.

"You guys stay _safe_ now," sings Kate, waving their friends off, and getting a squint-eyed glare from Lanie.

* * *

"Who wants to see the tree?" asks Castle, once it's just the four of them again.

"I think I'll pass, dear. It's a little chilly out here for those of us with less…_padding_. I'll wait in the car," says Martha. "But take your time," she adds, ushering the younger ones away.

"I'll stay with grams," offers Alexis, allowing Kate and Castle to walk the half-block alone to see the spectacular tree at Rockefeller Plaza.

It really is breathtaking; a Norway spruce, seventy-five feet tall and forty feet wide, lit by more than 30,000 tiny lights and crowned by a Swarovski crystal star.

There are a few people milling around, but they're largely alone due to the cold and the heavy flurries of snow now drifting down around them.

Kate stands quietly with Castle at her back, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she rests her head against his chest to look up at the top of the tree. They rock slightly from side-to-side, both absorbing the magical view.

"It's so beautiful," she whispers, turning into him, her breath rising in curling clouds between them.

"_You_ are so beautiful, Kate," Castle tells her, brushing a few flakes of snow out of her hair.

The moment stills, and suddenly everything just feels right, even although it's producing a mild, racing panic in her chest. They've been to church as a family, she appears to have the blessing of her boss, they're holding one another in front of one of the world's most iconic Christmas scenes.

There really is nothing else for it…

"Castle?" she breathes, turning her face into the warmth of his neck.

"Mmm?" he hums, brushing his cold nose against hers, smiling.

"I love you," she whispers, following these longed for words with the soft press of her lips against his, swallowing the moan of surprise that rises from his throat.

"_Kate?_" he gasps, breaking away, breathing hard, wide eyes roaming her face. "Did you just…?"

She nods, smiling, cheeks flushed pink, so healthy, so beautiful, eyes shining bright with everything she wants to tell him, everything she feels able to give him now.

"Merry Christmas, Castle. I love you."

"Oh, Kate," he chokes out. "I love you too. _So, so much_," he declares, hauling her against his chest in the tightest hug, before surging against her lips for a deep, lingering kiss that's full of promise and longing.

* * *

The black Mercedes sedan creeps along the curb behind them, until the driver can see the tall, handsome couple framed against the glittering Christmas tree.

Two swift pumps on the horn have the startled pair spinning around, only to see Alexis grinning and waving at them from the open back door to the car.

They grin up at one another, no longer embarrassed to be caught embracing.

"Shall we?" asks Castle, offering Kate his arm once more.

"I guess we should. It's getting late…and cold," she says, shivering, looking up at the mass of snowflakes now drifting down towards them, the whole sky like a giant, swirling, snow globe.

"Let's go home, Castle," she agrees, holding on tight. "See if Santa thinks you've been a good boy this year," she jokes, tugging on his arm, feeling as if something as sparkly and magnificent as that Christmas tree has just taken up residence in her chest, her heart as light as air now that these special words have finally been shared between them.

_A/N: I know a church service isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it is a big part of a lot of reviewer's Christmas traditions. I replaced Mayor Weldon with the actual Mayor of NYC to keep all the extras mentioned in this chapter real. Hope you're still with me? _

_Thank you for the lovely reviews and messages. This chapter is for my dear friend, Vandi. Keep smiling. __ Liv_


	15. Chapter 15 Sleigh Bells Ring

Disclaimer: The Sandman, Easter Bunny and Jack Frost all want to vote on it now...

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 15: Sleigh Bells Ring_**

_Tuesday December 25th – Two a.m._

Sleigh bells ring, as Castle unlocks the front door to the loft and pushes it open, the soft jingling coming from the tiny silver bells decorating the holly wreath behind the door.

They troop in single-file on tired limbs, bodies heavy, already leaning towards sleep.

The loft is lit by the soft light from the spectacular Christmas tree alone, and it glows and twinkles against the far wall, casting shards of colored light across the darkened windows and hardwood floor. The room is cosy and hushed; a comfort that envelopes each of them like a warm hug.

Castle is the only one with sufficient energy left to keep the party going it seems, and so he heads straight to the iPod dock to fire up some Christmas carols, setting the volume to a low, jolly, tinkling hum.

"New PJ's, troops," he orders, clapping his hands together, as he heads to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler, while Martha and Alexis obediently march upstairs.

Kate wanders over to the kitchen counter, stripping off her gloves, scarf and coat as she goes, watching him move around the cabinets with bright precision, not a hint of lethargy in his limbs. He's buzzing, she can see, and she wonders how much of that might be down to her and a certain three little words she finally managed to share with him tonight under a certain magical Christmas tree.

"You too, Kate," he tells her, coming out of the kitchen to physically angle her towards the bedroom, and then propel her across the living room floor by her shoulders.

"Me too, _what_?" she asks, digging her heels in and turning to face him, hands on his chest to still his movement.

"New PJs. They're lying on top of your pillow next to mine. _Shoo!_ Go on. I'll be right in," he tells her, as she stands her ground in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, brow knitted.

"What…eh…what…?" she flounders, shaking her head, too tired to form a coherent question it seems.

"Another Castle-Rodgers tradition," he explains for her. "We wear new pajamas every Christmas Eve, that way we look good for the family photo on Christmas morning."

"Family photo? _Right_," nods Kate, skeptically. Just when did she sign up for that? "And you…?"

"And _I_ got _you_ a new pair of pajamas too," he beams, obviously pleased with himself.

"Please tell me we're not matching," she begs, grabbing his hand and dragging him off to the bedroom with her, a hysterical giggle caught in her throat that tells him she's not mad, merely hoping they won't look like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

* * *

Laid out on each of their pillows is a new set of nightwear, just as he promised. Kate walks round to her side of the bed to inspect the deep damson-colored set of men's style cotton pajamas lying on top of the pillowcase. They're soft and stylish, with a light heather-colored piping around the collar and cuffs of the jacket and pants.

Castle's set is dark navy, the same design, with white piping around the collars and cuffs. They're kind of matching, but not in any cloyingly sweet, nausea-inducing way.

Kate lifts them to her nose, breathing in the familiar, clean scent of Castle's fabric softener; vanilla mixed with lavender.

"Alexis laundered them to make sure they were soft enough to wear," he tells her, as he watches her brush the sleeve of the jacket across her cheek.

"Castle, these are…I think I really like this tradition," she says, smiling at him, before rounding the bed to meet him on his side, needing to reaffirm the feelings she shared in front of the Rockefeller Christmas tree; this moment another perfect one she wants to hold onto.

* * *

They kept sneaking glances at one another all the way home in the back of the car, their joined hands never leaving his lap. He stroked and painted and inscribed beautiful messages of love across the back of her hand, until every nerve was singing.

Because she loves him. Kate Beckett _loves_ him. He's been pretty sure for a while, probably since the first night they started sleeping together. Because he knows her, knows she didn't give herself to him lightly, wouldn't have given up chasing her mother's case if this hadn't mattered to her more, if _he_ hadn't mattered more. But now he has the cast iron proof, and it still blows him away. He feels so proud that she thinks he's worthy of _her_.

_She loves him._

Kate stretches up on tip-toe to kiss him, letting her fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck as she hold him to her, brushing her lips back and forth over his, teasing.

"You're welcome," he tells her, kissing her cheek. "Now, go on. Put them on. Mother and Alexis will be waiting for us," he adds, smacking her cheekily on the butt.

"_Waiting_ for us? Castle, it's nearly _two_ in the morning."

"One gift before bed, Kate. It's…"

"_Tradition_, yes, I know," she nods, running her fingers lightly over his jaw, sighing, but doing as he asks anyway just to keep seeing that happy, carefree smile on his face, the beautiful light in his eyes.

* * *

He leaves the bedroom to go and set up the presents in the living room, light candles, start the fire, open the Champagne.

Kate hears him humming happily to himself, accompanying Mariah Carey in a high-pitched rendition of '_All I Want for Christmas Is You'_. He's squeaky and excitable and slightly off-key, stumbling over some of the words when he barely knows them, and belting out others with absolute conviction. It's so adorable and funny that she finds herself hurrying to undress, laying her tuxedo and dress shirt on top of the bed, instead of hanging them up in the closet, just so that she can get out into the living room as fast as possible to be around him, to be sucked back into his orbit, because that's where she feels happiest, lightest, most loved.

* * *

Her feet are bare, her hair loosened from the tight chignon, now falling free, tumbling around her shoulders in glossy ringlets, and still her earrings shiver and tremble from her earlobes; the diamonds sparkling and preening in the firelight.

She has the cuffs of the pajama jacket drawn down over her hands, fingers curled into fists, the mannish cut of the top slightly dwarfing her slender body, giving her a girlish, vulnerable air that steals the breath from his lungs when he catches sight of her, hesitating by the tree. She could be Alexis' older sister in this light, with the pajama pants sitting low on her hips, hems just grazing the floor, red toenails peaking out like timid little creatures seeking the light.

"Kate?" he says, swallowing hard, drawn into her orbit just as inevitably as she is to his, gravity no match for the pull of this pair to one another. "You okay?" he asks, concern flashing across his face as he folds her into him, hand stoking up her back as she lays her head against his chest, letting out a long slow breath. Because he knows how hard this must be for her at times; the overwhelm of his family, the loss of her mother, the change in pace from her solitary life that's requiring all sorts of adjustments from her this year.

"Where are your PJ's, Castle?" she teases, tugging on the front of his red dress shirt, and his face lights up again, the dimmer switch on his smile turned all the way up, enough voltage to illuminate the room once more.

"Wanna come help me?" he asks, hands sliding up and down her sides, fingers peeking below the waistband of her pajama pants in suggestion.

She's about to let him drag her back to the bedroom when Martha and Alexis appear at the top of the stairs, clattering and chattering their way down to the lower floor.

Castle groans, dropping his head to her shoulder in defeat.

Kate cards her fingers through his hair to soothe him, whispering, "Promise I'll help you take them off later," hotly against his ear, until he's pulling away, grinning, because she feels it too, she does, and somehow that makes it better, makes it all okay.

"Promise?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Rick," she replies, giving him a look that tells him she's not just referring to his pajamas.

Her eyes are so tender as she watches him go, the longing he can see there matching his own, and god does he love this woman.

"Be right back," he promises, walking backwards just so that he can keep looking at her, until walls and doors get in the way. "Don't start without me."

As if.

* * *

"Oh my! Darling, don't you look swish," says Martha, making Kate perform an awkward twirl in her bare feet in the middle of the living room.

Castle's mother is wearing a striking pair of emerald green, satin pajamas with an elaborate set of gold-embroidered initials on the pocket. She's even changed her jewelry to match her night attire, Kate realizes, a chunky purple-stoned choker with an arc of shiny cabochon drops now hanging from her neck, a set of matching earrings tugging heavily on her lobes.

"Martha, you look stunning," says Kate, earning herself a little shimmy of the head and shoulders and a megawatt smile from her partner's eccentric mother. "One tries."

Alexis is in the kitchen preparing a light snack of pate on toast for each of them, with little crackers and an array of miniature cheeses that Castle laid out being loaded onto the tray, together with roasted almonds, dried figs, olives, and the mince pies Kate and Castle made earlier in the day. It's quite a post-midnight snack, and suddenly Kate's feeling quite hungry, their little snack party now a distant memory.

The girl's new pajamas are perfect dorm room fair; festive red, white and green plaid pants, teamed with a long sleeve, red shirt on top. The word _JOY_ decorates the chest of the cotton top in bold white lettering.

The man of the house suddenly appears, making a grand, dramatic entrance worthy of his own mother from behind the open bookshelves.

"_Ta dah!"_ he cries, opening his arms wide and performing fluttering jazz hands, until all of his '_ladies_' oooh and ahhh, sounding suitably impressed by his attire.

Kate can't help laughing, though she tries not to let him see she's laughing _at him_ to begin with, more than _with him_. However, his adorableness wins her over in the end, and she gives him a little round of applause that has him flushing with pleasure and bowing when Martha and Alexis join in.

It strikes her how uneven the make-up of their little group is. He has clearly learned to enjoy female company over the years, revel in it even; in the attention it brings him, the ready, adoring audience for his jokes and charm. But she can't help but feel a little sad for him, at his lack of male role models and masculine company. No wonder he's gotten so close to Ryan and Esposito over the years and loves hanging out at the Precinct, where he knows most of the One-Two's squad by name. She makes a mental note to cut the three of them some slack in future, when they get a little too boisterous and begin to get on her nerves.

* * *

Castle opens the Champagne; an expensive bottle of salmon pink, Perrier-Jouet Belle Époque Rosé from 2004. The outside of the bottle is decorated with pale pink and green Japanese anemones that climb around the outside of the glass; stylized blooms reminiscent of the Art Nouveau period.

He pours them each a glass and then offers up a toast.

"To my family at Christmas. I look at each of you, and I am reminded everyday that my life is filled with blessings."

Martha rises from the couch with an "Aww, darling, eloquent as ever," as she clinks glasses with her son. But he holds up his hand to let her know that he isn't quite finished yet.

Kate is smoothing down the leg of her pajama pants and biting her lip at his touching toast, unwilling to trust herself to look up at him at this moment, when he speaks again.

"And to Kate, on our first proper Christmas together," he adds more softly, with a deferential dip of his head towards her. He raises his glass to toast his partner. "It may have taken us a while to get to this point, Detective Beckett, but as with everything precious in this life, the wait was truly worthwhile."

Kate can't help herself after that. There are tears in her eyes, happy tears that overwhelm her, and so she rises from her spot beside Martha, and after clinking her glass against his, she rises on tiptoe to kiss him, not caring at this point who might be watching.

"Thank you for waiting for me, Castle," she whispers in his ear, bunching the back of his pajama jacket in her hand to hold him close for a second longer, before she reluctantly lets go.

Castle looks a little overwhelmed himself when Kate backs away and goes to sit back down between Alexis and Martha, who are both studiously snacking on the tray of food in front of them, trying to pretend they both weren't watching Kate and Castle the whole time.

"Okay. Time for presents," croaks Castle, clapping his hands as he clears his emotion-clogged throat.

* * *

They each select one gift from the tree to be opened before bed.

Martha unwraps hers first, tearing open the gaily colored paper with abandon. Inside is a vintage, pearl and diamante, filigree hair comb, nestled in a bed of green tissue. It's delicate and will stand out strikingly against Martha's vibrant red hair.

"Oh, my, what a treasure," exclaims Martha, looking up from her gift, her hand fluttering at her throat.

"Kate and I found it in a little vintage shop in the East Village," Alexis tells her grandmother, beaming with pride.

"Oh, darlings, I love it," Martha tells them both, turning to hug each young woman in turn.

"You're welcome," says Kate, accepting a fragrant kiss on the cheek from Castle's ebullient mother, while her son looks on in pleasure.

"You next, dear," says Martha, handing a parcel to Kate.

Kate immediately protests. "I already opened my gift before church. Richard kind of forced me," she explains, smiling over at Castle, whose love-filled eyes swamp her.

"Nonsense, darling. We all get to open one gift together, despite my impatient son's attempts to corrupt you."

"Eh, I'm _right here_. I can hear you, mother," Castle protests half-heartedly.

Martha pushes the small, soft parcel into Kate's hands, insisting.

Kate glances at all of them watching her, a nervous grin on her face at suddenly becoming the center of attention.

She starts to rip the red wrapping paper apart, the surface decorated all over with tiny silver stars, and Castle coughs, stopping her in her tracks, her fingers hesitating on the last little piece of tape.

"Something to share with the class, Castle?" she asks him in her best detective voice, with an arch of her eyebrow, earning a snigger of appreciation from Alexis.

"Just...never figured you for a '_rip it and run_' type," he smirks, fingers playing piano across his upper lip.

"_What?_ You think my methodical work practices mean I'd be peeling off each little strip of tape one-by-one, carefully unfolding the wrapping paper, and then smoothing it out so I can use it again next year?" she teases.

"Something like that."

"Ah, still so many layers to the Beckett onion," she sighs, with a shake of her head, pointedly crumpling up the remains of the fancy outer layer, and lobbing it at him, before laying the tissue-wrapped gift on her knee.

"Stop teasing the girl and let her enjoy opening _her_ gift _her_ way," chides Castle's mother.

When she unfolds the tissue paper, there is a soft grey scarf folded up inside, the fabric printed all over with a layer of floating, charcoal-colored feathers. The feathers themselves are like x-rays or silouettes, faintly reminiscent of fingerprints, and the scarf itself is elegant, really long, and just _so_ _Kate_, and it's clear from her expression that she instantly loves it.

"Big hit?" asks Martha, eyes twinkling with pleasure, as she watches the smile break out across Kate's face, the reverent way she's running her fingers over the surface of the scarf.

Kate nods, unfolding the entire length of the scarf before wrapping it around her neck. "Big hit," she agrees, looking up to see all three adults watching her skillfully drape the scarf around her. She looks beautiful, even wearing it over her pajamas.

"Mother's handiwork," concedes Castle, when Kate looks to her boyfriend as the gift-giver.

"Martha, I love it. Thank you," she says, hugging the woman for the umpteenth time that night.

"Oh, you're very welcome, my dear," she says, so much motherly love radiating out of her eyes for the younger woman. "But, no gift could repay you for the wonders you've worked with this one," she says, dismissively waving her hand towards her son, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And again, mother. I'm _right_ _here_," he whines, getting impatient for his turn to open a gift.

* * *

"Alexis, dear. Your turn," Martha tells her patient granddaughter, and Castle groans, slumping down in the armchair he's sitting in like a sulky little boy.

Kate gets up off the couch and goes over to his chair, nudging his knee so that she can squeeze in beside him. But he grabs her waist instead, spinning her off her feet and into his lap with a squeal, before she can stop him.

"If I have to be last to unwrap a present, I want something good to hold onto while I wait," he whispers into her ear, as she squirms to get comfortable. "Kate, I'd stop moving so…erotically," he chides, "unless you want to embarrass us in front of my mother and my kid."

Kate stops moving immediately, but feels the heat growing between them, realizing too late that sitting so close was probably a really bad idea. But Castle's grip on her hips is like a vice when she tries getting up again, so she gives in and leans back against his chest to watch Alexis open her present, crossing her fingers that Castle can't feel the desperate thud of her heart through the back of her ribcage.

Alexis has a beautiful, tan leather satchel with a tassel on the front. It's big enough to fit her laptop, and stylish enough to take to a campus party, and the look on her face tells Kate that she loves it.

"That present is from Kate and I," Castle tells her, squeezing his girlfriend's knee, as he watches Alexis open every zipper and pocket the bag contains.

"Thanks, Kate, dad, I love it," she tells them enthusiastically, seeming genuinely pleased.

"You're welcome, Alexis. We thought it might make carting stuff cross campus a bit easier."

* * *

"Okay, my turn now?" asks Castle, dumping Kate unceremoniously off his lap, but only so far that she's still sitting on the same chair beside him.

"This is from me," says Kate, withdrawing a large, dark red envelope from behind a cushion on the couch, her heart suddenly hammering nervously.

He holds out his hand for the mysterious package, which is tied with a gold ribbon, wiggling his fingers impatiently at her, eyes dancing with excitement.

"What is it?" he asks breathily, once he holds the envelope in his hands, his right thumb caressing the scrawl of his name across the back, written in Kate's own hand.

"Why don't you open it and find out," urges Kate, smirking at him.

"Yeah, dad. You've been fidgeting for the last half hour. It's your turn. Just open it already."

"I…I want to savor it," he tells Alexis, never taking his eyes off Kate's face.

Alexis snorts. "Well that'd be a first."

"Come on. It's a bit of fun," nudges Kate. "Don't keep everyone in suspense."

So, with a final glance at her lips, that has her leaning helplessly towards him, he takes a deep, theatrical breath, and then he slides his thumb under the flap to free the contents.

Inside is a glossy folder, containing a number of documents.

Kate has her fingers pressed against her lips holding back a smile, as she watches him begin to read the top one - a legal title deed printed on parchment paper with a gold embossed seal in the bottom right-hand corner – his eyes wide, lips mouthing every word.

The title deed informs him that: Richard Edgar Castle is now the proud owner of a 100 square foot plot of land in Glencoe Wood on the 2000 acre Keil Estate, an estate in the Scottish Highlands near to historic Glencoe.

The documentation goes on to explain that as a landowner, or _Laird_ in old Scots, he is now entitled to use the title '_Lord_', even on official or government documentation.

Kate watches him emit a small squeak when he reads this particular fact.

"I'm a Lord?" he asks her, eyes dancing with delight when she nods back at him, smiling.

"Every Castle should have a Highland Estate to call their own...or at least a piece of one," she tells him, letting her hand settle on his pajama-clad thigh.

"I'm _really_ a _Lord?_" he repeats, stunned.

"Look at the rest of the documents if you don't believe me."

Also included in the pack is a Master Title Deed that allows him to change several forms of identification to incorporate his new title, if he should wish, along with lifetime access to the estate, a map with information on the local area around his plot of land, and there are even bumper stickers with the words, '_Lord of the Manor'_ and '_I'm a Lord'_ printed on them.

He sucks in a long breath, his hand pressed up against his mouth, while Alexis and Martha watch his antics. I looks like he might burst at any second.

"I'm a Lord," he whispers at length, nodding inanely.

"Lord Richard Castle. Mmm. Has an…_authentic_ ring to it," says Alexis, grinning at her dad's display of child-like excitement. "Kate, I think you might just have given him the best present ever."

"Yes. Yes, Alexis is right. Best. Present. Ever," he repeats, leaning over to kiss her on the lips. "Thank you."

"Merry Christmas, _my lord_," whispers Kate, raising a saucy, suggestive eyebrow at him when he pulls back in surprise to look at her face.

"Oh, I am _so_ gonna be milking this," he tells her, as if she hadn't already figured _that_ out for herself, feeling his own _lord a leaping_ when he shifts her back into his lap and wraps his arms around her, as Martha and Alexis finally wish them both good night.

_A/N: The overwhelming number of reviews to the last chapter was, almost to a man, very positive. But can I reiterate again that these are your traditions I'm honoring in this story, not my own. _

_I also have no objection to critical reviews, though I would like to be able to respond to them personally, so please ensure you accept replies from authors before you post, since I know I'm not alone in that._

_So many people told me they got new pjs and wore them on Christmas Eve, so this one was for you! Along with those of you who open just one gift before bedtime._

_Castle's gift from Kate is an actual thing. I can see it being just perfect for him, since he already has land on the moon, and this comes with the added distinction of a genuine title. _

_Not too much longer to go on this story, guys. But then it is me, so you really never know! Hope you're still having fun with this. __Liv_


	16. Chapter 16 Remind Me Why I Love You

Disclaimer: This may get me drummed out of the Girl Scouts, never mind on the naughty list.

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 16: Remind Me Why I Love You_**

**_**Warning: partial M rated chapter**_**

_Tuesday December 25th – Early hours of the morning_

"More champagne?" asks Castle, leaning forward to reach the ice bucket on the coffee table with Kate still curled in his lap, an arm around her stomach to hold onto her as he tips them both forward.

"Yes, please. This is too good to waste," she tells him, holding out her flute for a top up.

Castle pours the rosé champagne into her glass ever so slowly in an effort to minimize the loss of fizz. But despite his care, a layer of white bubbles, like whispering sea foam, still rushes up towards the rim of the glass to meet Kate's waiting lips.

The music is still playing quietly in the background, Alexis and Martha are asleep upstairs, and so they're finally alone in front of the twinkling tree.

"Take this to bed?" Kate suggests, dropping her tired head onto his shoulder, while she balances the glass on her knee.

"You're just desperate to strip these pajamas off me. Aren't you, Detective Beckett?" he teases, shimmying underneath her in the large armchair, slipping a cold finger in between the buttons of her pajama top to caress the underside of her warm breast, the echo of her _I love you_ making him bold.

"Where's your evidence, Mr. Castle? Burden of proof?"

"The suspect has form in this regard, your honor. Bit of a long rap sheet, in fact," he says, squeezing her thigh.

"That so?" hums Kate, laughing a little dirtily. "Well, we've gotta make sure those pajamas still look crisp for tomorrow's family photo."

And somewhere tiny inside, she can't believe she's joking about this, so easily, so lightly, so relaxed that this tradition will soon include her too; another new memory that folds her into this tight-knit little family as if it's where she belongs. Because for them, the Castle-Rogers, there has never been any doubt that Kate belongs; she only had to open herself up to them, to _him_ really, to be accepted by all of them.

"Let's go to bed, Rick," she says, feeling closer to him tonight that she thinks she ever has, near death experiences aside.

* * *

He loads a couple of their mince pies onto a plate, gives her his glass to carry, and then he picks up the ice bucket to take through to his bedroom.

"Three a.m. _So_ glad I have tomorrow off," yawns Kate, stretching her arms high above her head after she places the two glasses on the nightstand.

"No alarm," grins Castle, toying with the top button on her shirt, before switching his attention to the elastic waistband of her pants when she stretches, his large thumbs smoothing across the soft, taut skin of her abdomen, while his fingers cup her waist.

When Kate shivers, he picks her up and deposits her in bed, tugging the sheets and blankets up over her legs.

"What happened to stripping?" she asks in surprise.

"Too cold out here. And besides, Santa won't come if he catches us out of bed at this hour."

"Castle, if you're too tired for sex just say. But, _Santa?_ Poor excuse, my man-child."

"Never too tired for you, my love," he growls, attacking her neck until she's laughing and begging him to stop.

The wrestling and giggling eventually dies down, until they're just looking at one another, quietly. Kate's big hazel eyes watching Castle's blue ones study her face with such intensity that she eventually has to kiss him to get him to stop.

"Fine distraction technique you have there, detective," he jokes, sliding further down the bed until he's lying behind her, arms encircling her body.

The room goes very still, only the sound of their combined breathing breaking the silence, and the ticking of a clock out in his office. It's comfortable now, to be like this together, but there's still an air of portent. Always.

* * *

"Did you ever imagine we'd get to enjoy this?" he asks, toying with the button midway down her top, twisting it from side-to-side.

"Christmas?" asks Kate, swiveling her head to look at him, hair whispering across the pillow.

"Mmm, not so much Christmas as just…"

"You and me?"

"Yes. When I think back…"

"Shhh, don't," Kate counsels, running her fingers up the inside of his sleeve, teasing the fine hair on his arm. "I've been there, and it isn't fun."

"The what ifs?"

"_That_, and the what might have beens, and the if onlys. All the mistakes we made. All the miscommunications, the time lost."

"But you agree the wait was worthwhile?"

"Of course. For _this_? _Yes._ I just don't know _why_ we waited anymore. I don't know what I was so afraid of."

"You know that I love you, Kate?"

She nods in silent reply, drawing his arms tighter around her. "That's what makes it worse."

"_What_? That I _love_ you?" asks Castle, not quite following.

"No. That I knew for _a year,_ and I did _nothing_. I mean, what was I thinking? That the man who loves me, who's given up so much to be my partner…_he's_ the guy who's going to break my heart?"

"Kate, you were healing. And you didn't exactly _do_ nothing. We did get closer. I know now that I didn't imagine any of that. That's why it hurt so much when I found out you'd been lying about hearing me that day at the cemetery. I thought we were nearly there."

"We were. I was just so scared that I'd lose you if I told you how I felt and…"

"_And_…?"

"And maybe you'd got tired of waiting, or…or changed your mind, or maybe you just said it in the heat of the moment and regretted it later. I left you…for _three whole months_ I left you, Rick," she says, and he can hear the tears clogging her throat. "What was I _thinking?_" she whispers into the stillness, berating herself. "God, I can barely stand a morning at the Precinct now without you by my side," she laughs bitterly. "How did I ever go three months without seeing you or even hearing your voice?"

Castle doesn't trust himself to answer these questions, and so he chooses to assume they're rhetorical, that Kate is venting anger at herself because they waited, and the wait nearly blew them apart, deprived them of nights as special as this.

* * *

"Do you remember the Jack Sinclair case?" he asks, trying to draw her back to their amazing present life, the reality of where they are now, humor his go-to tool of choice as usual.

"Yeah, your demon theory, how could I forget?" she laughs, wiping away a tear.

"Do you remember the night we went to the haunted mansion?"

"Eh, it wasn't haunted, Castle."

"Do you remember?" he insists, fingers flexing on her stomach until she gives in.

"Yes, of course. You screamed like a little girl when we found that secret room and the skeleton fell out."

"Before that," he says, deciding not to contest her slur on his manhood, mostly because it's the truth, so there's no point.

"Which bit?"

"When I hoisted you up to the ceiling so you could look for a secret room."

"When you _groped me_, you mean?"

"Tight leather pants, that adorable braid? Are you kidding me? I'm a red blooded male. Every day I worked with you…" he shakes his head, the scruff on his jaw grazing her cheek, "I was in _heaven_, Kate. And…and maybe that sounds pathetic, but…"

"It doesn't," she says, silencing him. "Here's your partner, right here," she tells him, laying his hand over her heart. "It was exactly the same for me."

"Remember the tiger case?"

"When we woke up cuffed together?" giggles Kate, turning to lie on her back, less afraid to look at him now. "You were so goofy."

"Mmm. What struck me about that day, was that waking up next to you, even although we were drugged and cuffed, and lying on a dirty old mattress in a cold dungeon of a room, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Like something we should be doing every single day."

"Yeah, well, we made up for lost time since. How many nights have we spent apart since May?"

"Eight," he fires back without hesitation.

"Seriously?" asks Kate, trying to sit up. "We managed _eight nights apart_?"

"Well, it's really only seven if you count the night you came over here at three in the morning begging me to let you in."

"I was _not_ begging," she refutes, gently digging him in the ribs.

"Whatever, Beckett," he teases, kissing her ear. "Point is, as bad as things might look in hindsight, we were getting ready for this. We were committed to one another already in so many ways. That's what has made this whole relationship so amazing, so easy…most of the time."

"Hmm, most of the time," agrees Kate, with a wry smile. "If you don't count the Kristina Cottera incident."

"I thought that was forgiven?"

"We'll see what Santa has to say about that," she teases, stretching up to kiss him, to claim him all over again from the unpleasant memory of the pushy entertainment reporter with the big boobs.

* * *

Silence settles over the bedroom once more, and for a second, Kate thinks that Castle may have fallen asleep.

"What you said tonight…"

"I thought you were sleeping."

"No. Just thinking. What you said, Kate…"

"That I love you?"

"Mmm, yes, that," he says, unable to stop the rise in heart rate that accompanies those words, the thrill they give him. "Why now? Why tonight?"

Kate is surprised by the question, and wonders if his insecurity has him thinking that she was simply swept up in the moment, the romance of it all, in the same way she used to wonder if he was swept up in the horror of potential loss that day at the cemetery.

"I've been in love with you for…God, I can't even pinpoint the start anymore. A long time, Rick. I guess I'm just not as good at saying the words as you are. But I needed to tell you. I _know_, or at least I _hoped_ you knew that's how I felt about you, from my actions, the way we are together, how we take care of each other."

"I hoped. But I'd never presume. You are your own person, Kate. No one could ever own you or force you into anything."

"Tonight was a perfect night for a whole host of reasons. Your family, our friends, the choir, the snow, that beautiful tree…I'm feeling the spirit of Christmas for the first time in nearly fifteen years, Castle. For the first time since my mom died. And you gave that back to me. _You_. With your patience and your love and your joy. I just…I wanted to give you something too. And the best thing I can think to give you is my love and my heart."

* * *

He's over her body in a heartbeat, warm hands sliding up her sides, over her ribs, his mouth hot and insistent against her lips, worshiping, showing her how much this means to him.

"Oh god, Kate," he chokes out, coming up for air, frantic, his heart beating in a crazy, frenzied manner.

"I love you. I do. More than I've ever loved anyone, Rick. Trust me?" she asks, starting to unbutton his pajama shirt, fingers tripping lightly from button to button, as he does the same for her, both of them needing the reassurance of warm, naked skin on skin.

She tugs at the waist of his pants, only managing to free his left hip. She can feel the pressing heat and weight, the solidity of his arousal between them, and it's making her crazy not to be able to get at him.

"Off," she grunts, in a fit of frustration, tugging at the elastic. "Just…okay, you do yours, I'll do mine."

"Romantic," he chokes out, driving a burst of embarrassed laughter from Kate's chest for being so obviously needy, as they both kick off the rest of their night attire.

"More like desperate," she throws back, earning a growl of appreciation from her partner.

"I love it when you get all kinds of desperate."

"I love it when you get all kinds of inside me. So hurry up, before Santa sees us. I'm still hoping to make the nice girl list this year."

She cries out, when he takes her at her word and slides into her after the briefest of preambles.

"Sorry, too…"

"Too nothing. More," she urges, gliding her body up against him, needing, needing, needing.

They've been teasing one another all night, touching, and mostly tender too, a quiet love burning between them since they left the loft and set off for church together.

"I always knew you'd look spectacular wearing nothing but a pair of diamond earrings and a smile, Kate Beckett."

"Scored another fantasy off your list?" she teases, wrapping her legs around his waist and tilting her pelvis to take all of him.

"Plenty more where that came from."

"Fantasies or diamonds?"

"Both."

"Oh god," she moans breathily, feeling her body aching for every inch of him, every stroke a sweet agony of shuddering excitement and impending loss.

"You're so close," he whispers, kissing her deeply, his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth in a slow rhythm to match the movement of his whole body; every caress, every intrusion, wet and insistent. His hips drive deeper in response to the desperate grip of her fingers on his hip and shoulder, pulling him into her.

"Ahhh," she cries, letting out a slow breath, tightening around him until he starts to see stars.

The warm, wet heat of his mouth on her breast isn't what drives her over the edge. It's his words, whispered in quiet little puffs across her damp skin that make her let go.

"Kate, I love you. I love you, Kate," he whispers urgently, swirling his tongue around her nipple, sucking the soft swell of her breast into his mouth, and then moving to kiss the tender skin over her heart.

_Same words, whole new memory. _

"Come for me," he pleads, fingers stroking the sensitive skin along the back of her thigh.

"Nah-huh," she hums, shaking her head, resisting, arching her hips hard against him, prolonging the agony because he feels so damn good, and they're on the edge together, and she doesn't want it to stop.

"Kate. Oh god, Kate, I can't…going to…" he pants.

And he's helpless against her clever moves; the subtle twist of her hips; the red, swollen rawness of her full, glistening mouth; the possessive desire written on her face; the bewitching glitter of her eyes as she watches him. It's all too much, and so he comes, arching his spine and throwing his head back, his arms braced taught against the mattress as he spills white-hot heat inside of her.

Kate finally lets go a second later, stilling completely to fully experience the blissful sensation of her body fluttering around his, every nerve ending singing with their combined release, her skin vibrating under his reverent touch like a struck tuning fork.

* * *

"Shhh. Did you hear something?" she whispers, once they are collapsed together under the covers, too warm and comfortable to move a muscle.

"No? What?" he asks, ear cocked to listen.

"Sounded kind of like reindeer hooves," she sniggers, unable to keep her laughter in.

"Very funny. But you know Santa won't deliver if you don't believe, K-Bex," he warns her, smoothing the flat of his hand up and down her spine.

"Hey, I've got my own Santa right here," she whispers, kissing his cheek, as if sharing a secret. "And _he_ brings me gifts all year round."

"Coffee's not a gift. It's fuel."

"Is to me. Along with the smiles, and the jokes…yes, even the really bad ones," she adds, when he looks at her skeptically.

"There are no bad jokes. Beckett, I don't make bad jokes," he insists.

"Whatever you say, Castle."

"What about my crazy theories?"

"Meh. _Those_…not so much," she teases, earning herself a tweak of her nipple that has her writhing beneath him.

"Stop moving like that or I'm going to have to insist on round two."

"Oh, insisting now, are we?" she grins, pressing her tongue against his earlobe and then sucking on it until he moans. "You're brave."

"When I have to be."

"You know what we _do_ have to do?"

"Have sex in your Charger?"

"Aside from that," she grins, kissing his chin. "I meant get some sleep. We have to prepare Christmas dinner for five in a matter of hours."

"Alexis'll help."

"Alexis will be too busy Skyping her boyfriend."

"_What?_" he squawks, wondering when this happened.

"I'm sorry. I kind of promised she could. They have that time difference thing to work out. You don't mind, do you?"

"Guess not," he replies, sinking back down against her shoulder. "Just don't let her take advantage of you."

"_Me?_" snorts Kate. "Not likely. I keep you in line, don't I?"

"Looking at our current position, I'd say you're doing a pretty poor job, Detective," he teases, getting a sharp smack on the ass from Kate. "Ohhh, kinky. I like it."

"Rick, sleep," she soothes, finally allowing him to roll off of her and tuck himself in beside her body, their pajamas now forgotten in a tangled heap at the bottom of the bed.

* * *

They settle in against their pillows, shifting and squirreling into the thick mattress. Kate prefers to sleep on her front, her head turned to the left, facing him. He knows she's ready to sleep when she takes up this position. Some nights she asks him to rub her back, and by the time he's finished smoothing a few slow circles low on her spine, she's usually passed out, fast asleep. It's cute, like putting a baby to sleep, and he loves to watch her slip under with just the magical touch of his hand.

She's on the verge right now, letting herself sink deep and heavy into the mattress, soft darkness coming to carry her off, when he speaks again.

"What did Gates say to you outside the church tonight? I forgot to ask? Please tell me I'm not fired?"

"You're not fired," she sighs, flipping onto her back, because she knows she'll have to explain all before he'll be able to sleep, and he'll only keep pestering her if she doesn't tell him what went on.

"She knows," Kate confesses.

"What? About us?"

"No, about Santa Claus. _Yes_, about us," she yawns, stretching her body out against the sheets, her bare arm brushing his side, making them both shiver.

"Oh hell. I thought we were discreet. What she say?"

"_Discreet?_" scoffs Kate. "You practically had your tongue in my mouth in church."

"Did _not_," he says, appalled at the suggestion that this is somehow _his_ fault.

"Okay, well, you kept touching me," she adds, messing with him, because she knows everything is going to be okay, and if he wants to wake her up…

"I seem to recall _you_ touching me just as much, Katherine Beckett."

"So we're both to blame."

"For what? You already said I wasn't fired."

"Well, technically she can't fire you if…"

"If I don't actually work there. So…so does that mean I can't shadow you anymore?"

"I'm sorry, I can't deal with this right now," says Kate rather mysteriously, playing right into Castle's predilection for melodrama.

"Oh god, that's a yes, isn't it?" he asks, rolling over to face her, his hand landing heavily on her stomach which is twitching with the laughter she's trying to hold in.

"Are you…? Kate, are you _laughing_ at me right now?"

She shakes with giggles, squeaking out a faint, "Yes."

"Mean girl. You are _definitely_ on Santa's naughty list."

"I'm sorry. That was just too easy."

"So what did she really say?"

"She…she said that we clearly had something to celebrate this year. And when I tried to explain, apologize for keeping it from her, she told me to just go and enjoy Christmas with your family."

"Really? Wow. And that was all she said?"

"Mmm-hmm," nods Kate, noncommittally.

"Funny, cause I thought I heard her say something else," he says, slyly sliding his hand over her stomach, as Kate tenses, wondering if she's been caught out.

"Really? No," she shakes her head in the dark. "I can't think of anything."

"So there was nothing about you being lucky to have Martha as a mother-in-law?" he grins in the dark.

_Bingo!_ He has her bang to rights.

"_You knew all along?_" she squeals, when he grabs for her with both hands, hauling her onto his chest. "That was mean."

"No meaner than you teasing me."

"Remind me why I love you," she whispers into his ear, slowly starting to move against him again, the feel of his smooth, naked skin against her own overcoming the need to sleep in favor of…_other_ activities.

"Is this the answer you're looking for?" he asks, taking hold of her hand and slipping it down between them.

"Oh, yes," she growls. "That is _definitely_ one of the reasons. And I have to warn you that I'm about to be a _very_ _naughty girl_, Rick. So, you'd better tell Santa to move right along, 'cause I am taking you down with me," she tells him, sliding down beneath the covers with her boyfriend's low, throaty moan ringing in her ears.

And a _very_ Merry Christmas was had by all.

_A/N: So many lovely reviews to the last chapter! Thank you guys. You make all the brain ache so worthwhile. These two are going to be shattered on Christmas morning. I can see Martha and Jim having to roast the turkey! :) _

_Liv_


	17. Chapter 17 Good Morning My Lord

Disclaimer: Now the Tooth Fairy wants her say? Jeez...

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 17: Good Morning My Lord_**

_Tuesday December 25th – Christmas Morning_

"_Kate?_"

"Mmm."

"Kate, wake up," he whispers, wrapping his body around hers, feeling her uncurl against him from the fetal position she's been lying in, blossoming like a beautiful flower seeking the warm summer sun.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers, kissing her cheek and combing his fingers through her hair, trying to wake her gently, tamping down his rising excitement at having her here, in his bed, to share the wonder of Christmas with him.

Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.

"Whatimesit?" she mumbles, one eye squinting open and then immediately slamming shut again.

Her brain intrinsically seems to know when she has to get up for work, and on the days that she doesn't, it lets her rest, soak up as much sleep as her body needs to recover, to keep her healthy, and…to ignore her boyfriend.

"Eight-thirty," he tells her, massaging her hip in a manner she _knows_ he thinks will get her going, and by 'going', she doesn't mean up and out of bed to start preparing vegetables.

"Too early," she mutters, turning away from him to mash her face into the pillow.

Her long dark lashes brush the silk pillowcase, whispering secrets against the gossamer threads.

But Castle rolls with her, his large body pressing her down into the mattress, one knee nudging her legs apart.

"Oh, Katie," he sings in her ear, fingers stroking up and down her naked thigh, making her muscles jump involuntarily. They spasm, and her foot kicks out and collides with his shin.

"Ow!"

She turns her head instantly, gives him a squint-eyed glare.

"If you want a repeat performance of last night's entertainment, I suggest you cut out the _Katie_. My dad's coming over today. _He's_ the only one who gets to call me that."

"Someone's grumpy this morning."

She turns away again, hoping for just half an hour more sleep, her naked back a tempting, undulating landscape that calls to his spirit of wanderlust.

"Sweetheart, wakey wakey," he tries again, feathering her bare shoulder with kisses, trailing a finger down the snakes and ladders of her spine, and Kate mutters under her breath, '_strike two'_.

"Castle, sleep," she groans, tugging on the arm he has slung over her stomach, hoping she can at least persuade him to put his head back onto the pillow and join her.

_Quietly._

"_Baby_?" he breathes across her neck, tickling the fine hair at her nape and raising goose bumps all over her skin.

"Okay, strike three!" declares Kate, pushing herself upright in bed to find Castle staring at her, eyes wide with surprise.

Because apparently Richard Castle seems to think that by declaring her love for him, she has somehow agreed to a whole litany of soppy, sentimental terms of endearment.

"Ss-strike three? Wh…what does that mean?" he stammers, staring at her.

"_Baby_? _Sweetheart? Katie?_" she repeats, her lips pursing in displeasure after each one.

"Love, what's wrong with…?"

"_Love?_ There you go again," she says, slapping her hand down on the bed, causing a ripple of vibration to pass through the mattress beneath them.

"I…I don't understand. What's wrong with calling you love, or sweetheart, or…"

"_Honey?_" suggests Kate sarcastically, suddenly realizing that she's topless in bed and Castle is kind of…_distracted_.

She tugs the sheet up around her, to his obvious dismay. But at least he's focusing on her face again.

"Honey's good. If you prefer honey, I can titally…I mean, _totally_ work with that."

"No. _No!_ Honey is _not_ okay," she says, batting his wandering hands away.

"Kate? What's going on?" he asks, looking wounded.

"Okay. So...so you _start out_ with pet names at home, and then before you know it you're using them in public, and then suddenly you're calling me _sweetheart_ at a crime scene while we're standing over a dead body, Castle, or it slips out in front of Gates, or…or worse still, in front of the boys."

"_That's_ what you're worried about? That I can't control my own thoughts, my own tongue, when we're not alone?"

Kate crosses her arms, staying silent, raises one eyebrow to make her point.

"_I_ can _filter_, compartmentalize," he insists indignantly. "No matter how much I want to, I _never_ touch you at the Precinct."

"_Much_," smirks Kate, with a snort of derision.

"And do you have _any_ idea how long your were _Kate_ in my head, and yet I continued to call you _Beckett_ to your face just to respect your personal boundaries, your sense of professionalism, even when it felt cold and impersonal? Try _years_, Kate."

She feels awful when he explains this. Churlish, over-sensitive, _mean_, quite frankly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I guess…maybe I did get out the wrong side of the bed this morning," she says, pulling her knees up to her chest under the covers and laying her chin on top, taking a moment to let her apology settle in.

"Lie down with me?" she asks, her heart sinking at the look of hurt and reluctance on his face. "Rick, please? Just for five minutes? We have time," she pleads, finally tugging him down with her to lie under the covers.

* * *

"I'm sorry," he says after a minute or so, sinking his chin into her shoulder, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. "I'm an idiot."

Because he knows her better than this.

"You're not an idiot," she sighs, sliding her hand between both of his where they lie on top of her stomach, sandwiched. "Just…one step at a time, Castle. I…I've just never been one for pet names. My line of work, you get a nickname early on and it sticks…like mud. You get lucky and it's benign. I was Becks in high school. Well, you already met Maddie."

"And K-Bex at Stanford?"

"Mmm-hmm. Just among the Nebula 9 gang."

"And now? What do you want to be now?"

"I've just been Beckett for years. It's all I know. It's how I think of myself. Just like you're Castle, even since we've been together. But I know that it sounds impersonal at times, especially in front of your family. So, how about we compromise?"

"I can compromise. Compromise is good. What do you suggest?" he asks eagerly.

"I will call you Rick at home. And you can call me whatever ridiculous pet name you want. But _only_ at home, Castle. _Understand?_"

She feels him grin against her shoulder, his cheeks spreading wide with delight, stubble nudging at her neck.

"Okay, _snookums_," he chuckles, relishing the way the silly love-name sounds on his tongue. "Got yourself a deal," he adds, tweaking her sides, making her squeal and struggle against him.

* * *

They lie quietly together for five minutes just as Kate asked, but before long Castle starts to fidget. She can tell he's wide awake by his noisy breathing, the little huffs and puffs of air he not so innocently feathers across her neck. In fact, at times it feels as if he's deliberately _blowing_ on her.

Then comes the march of his wicked, wandering fingers. They're both still naked from the night before, or rather the early hours of Christmas morning, and he's taking full advantage of all that exposed skin. Oh is he ever.

Kate lies as still as she can, pretending to doze, when in actual fact she's making a mental list of all the things they need to do when they get up.

The final straw comes when he slides his index finger into the warm crease of skin at the very top of her thigh, where her legs are drawn up, grazing the sensitive area just over her pubic bone.

"Okay. Enough," she says, rolling onto her back and then sitting up, dragging the covers down as she does so.

"Playtime," sings Castle, grinning like he just won first prize in a beauty contest, all bright eyes and teeth.

"Nuh-huh. No playtime, sunshine. You have potatoes to peel, yams to prepare, a turkey to stuff and get in the oven."

"No playtime?" he repeats solemnly, as if he doesn't quite understand, fixated, stunned, and so terribly disappointed.

The flop of dark hair over his forehead and his ridiculously kissable, pouty mouth are tugging on Kate's heartstrings and seriously undermining her resolve. The fact that he's still boldly stroking the top of her thigh is _so_ not helping either.

But no, this is their first Christmas as a proper couple. Not the '_God they are so a couple even if they're the last ones to realize it'_ in-joke that they were to their friends and family last year. And Kate is determined to make today perfect, especially for her dad.

"Later. We can have playtime later," she promises, tenderly smoothing her thumb across his eyebrow, before running her hand through his hair to sweep it back off his forehead.

"You promise?" he asks in that little boy voice that tugs at something maternal, until recently buried somewhere deep down inside of her.

"When have I ever let you down?" she asks, frowning when she hears herself reply, 'plenty'. "Okay, let me rephrase that," she adds, before he can answer back. "When have I ever broken a promise that I made to you?"

"When you were in hospital and I came to visit you and you said that you would call, but…"

"Okay. So I was a horrible, selfish person. Let's…let's just let that incident and the Kristina Cottera one go, shall we? Fresh start. Any promise I make from now on I will honor, including this one. Now, up, Castle. Shoo. Time to shower and get cracking."

"What about our stockings? Breakfast? The family photo?"

"Oh, shoot. I totally forgot about that," she says, doing a very good job of pretending, her lip nailed between her teeth as if considering what to do now.

As if he'd let her forget about _these_ traditions.

She suddenly smiles at him, all hint of pretense falling away, and his eyes light up in a flash, burning with unconcealed delight.

"You've been working on your poker face, detective. I'm impressed. We are _so_ inviting the guys over at New Years, and then we are gonna_ team up and clean up_," he declares, kissing her noisily on the mouth.

"Okay cardsharp. Let me use the bathroom. You start breakfast, and I'll be right out."

* * *

Kate hisses when her feet hit the cold floor, the cool air making her shiver.

"Where did we leave those pajamas?" she asks idly, at the same time as she finds both their shirts lying in a heap at her feet on the floor.

Castle digs around under the comforter and finds the matching pants balled up at the foot of the bed.

"Oh crap," he says, throwing Kate her pair of rumpled pants. "Epic fail on keeping these looking crisp for the photo."

"Doesn't even look as if we slept _in_ them," moans Kate, trying to smooth the fabric down. "More like a moose slept _on_ them."

"A moose? How'd you come up with a moose?"

"Big, hairy, heavy…"

"A reindeer would have been more in-keeping, don't you think?"

"Are we _seriously_ debating this right now?"

"Right. Yeah. Breakfast," mumbles Castle, finishing dressing before heading out to make a start on their pancakes.

* * *

Martha and Alexis aren't even up yet by the time Kate joins Castle in the kitchen, helping him by setting places at the counter for each of them, pouring juice, washing berries, and stealing kisses whenever she gets close enough to reach his mouth.

"Aren't your feet cold?" he asks, spotting her red-lacquered toenails peeking out from the hem of her pajama pants again, toes curling against the white kitchen tile.

"No. I'm used to it. You're apartment is…well, it's warmer than mine."

"Help yourself to my socks if you're cold."

"I'm not cold. Stop fussing, Old Mother Hubbard," she teases, trailing her fingers over the curve of his buttocks and then goosing him so that he jumps in surprise.

"You're really getting the hang of this pet name thing, I see," he smirks sarcastically.

"Shut up, _My Lord_," she says, giving him a doe-eyed smile. "_There_, does that satisfy your romantic leanings?"

"I'd rather be romantically leaning against you," he leers, pinning her up against the counter with his hips, just as a none-too-subtle throat clearing sound erupts behind them.

"Oh jeez," he groans, shaking his head before turning around.

"Morning, mother," he says, grudgingly letting Kate go to greet his spectacularly ill-timed mother.

"Merry Christmas, Martha," says Kate, kissing Castle's mother on the cheek. "Sleep well?"

"Like a log, darling. Like a log," she enthuses.

"Hope that was a Yule log," jokes Castle, and both Kate and Martha roll their eyes at his bad, festive-flavored joke.

"Thought you said there were no bad jokes, Rick. That sounded pretty bad to me."

"Philistine," he mutters, dragging her up against his chest for a sloppy kiss just to get her back by embarrassing her in front of his mother, a trick that is very quickly becoming ineffective, if her enthusiastic response is anything to go by.

"I see you two slept well," comments Martha, stopping them in their tracks. "Judging by the state of your night attire," she adds, quirking a knowing eyebrow at the naughty pair and their crumpled pajamas.

"Yule logs all round," mumbles Castle, coughing loudly to mask the dirty giggle Kate emits behind him.

"Yule logs?" she mouths at him, when they both head over to the sink, grinning like naughty children.

"Shhh," he hisses. "She has excellent hearing for an old dear."

"I hope you're not referring to _me_ as an old dear," pipes up Martha, making Castle cough and Kate giggle again.

"See," he whispers, nudging his girlfriend in the ribs. "Just…sit down. Go distract her or something."

* * *

Alexis eventually joins them, her cell phone welded to her right hand.

"Still waiting to hear from Max?" asks Kate sympathetically, nodding towards her phone.

Alexis looks a little embarrassed, places it down on the counter and pushes it away from her plate a little way.

"We're supposed to be Skyping at midday our time, five o'clock in London," she beams at Kate, a romantic, dreamy look in her eyes.

"But that's still almost three hours away," interjects Castle, only embarrassing her further, highlighting her eagerness, until Kate jabs an elbow in his ribs and he shuts up.

"Oh, let the girl enjoy her Christmas morning, Richard," says Martha, airily waving her hand like Lady Bountiful. "I know you're well past the first flush of youth, darling. But I'm sure if you try hard enough, you can still remember what young love felt like."

Kate coughs violently, barely managing to catch a mouthful of pancake in her napkin. She has to bite her cheek to stop from laughing out loud, and when she sneaks a glance at Castle, he looks apoplectic sitting beside her, affronted, offended, seven ways 'till Sunday.

Kate leans close to him, purring in his ear, "Don't worry, darling. You're only as old as the woman you feel," she counsels with a smirk, feeling his whole body stiffen under her touch, when she leans even closer still to stroke her fingers up and down his thigh.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that," he chokes out, removing her hand back to her own lap before she makes things any worse.

* * *

Once breakfast is over, the dishes cleared, it's time for Christmas stockings, and thankfully this seems to cheer Castle up no end.

The neat row of four felt stockings are hanging from an elaborate fake hearth and chimneybreast Castle built out of plywood, which he then covered with brick-patterned wallpaper and hung with a holly garland.

They gather around the 'chimney' and Castle, as usual, takes over the role of M.C.

He clears his throat and scans the three faces in front of him before he starts to speak.

"I built this chimney for you, Kate," he tells her, and she glances at Alexis, eyes widening in concern. Because she has no idea what's coming next.

"This may be a story from a long time ago, from back in our somewhat _murky_ past…" he says, with a flourish worthy of Martha.

"What was murky about our past?" asks Kate, raising her hand like a kid in class.

Castle ignores her question and carries on with his story.

"But distant thought it may be, I clearly remember the day you told me that you stopped believing in Santa Claus…"

"Shhh, dad. Whisper it, or…or a fairy dies or something," says Alexis, holding a finger to her lips.

"I think that's every time you say you don't believe in fai…" corrects Kate, until Castle cuts her off.

"Shhh," he whispers too. "Do you _want_ to be responsible for the homicide of _Tinkerbell_?"

"_Really_? _Tinkerbell now_?" asks Kate, giving him her best Detective Beckett stare.

"_Anyhoo_," he sings chirpily, ignoring her. "The story goes that you stopped believing in Santa Claus," he whispers for Alexis' benefit, "when you were just three years old, and you realized that your house had no chimney."

Martha _awwws_ from the sofa, clapping her hands in delight at the sweet story. "Three years old, oh that's simply darling, sweetheart."

"Is there _anything_ I've told you over the last four and a half years that you haven't committed to memory?" asks Kate, secretly delighted by his feats of recall, how enthralled this man is with all of her, even the dark, broken parts. "Or do you covertly record our conversations?"

"That, my dear detective, would be against the law, as you well know. _I_ merely have a memory for fascinating facts and extraordinary people," he adds softly, looking at her as if they are the only two people in the room.

Alexis clears her throat. "So, dad…you were saying? Santa Claus?" she prompts.

"Oh. Yes, sorry, Alexis. So, as I was saying, I built this chimney in honor of little Katie Beckett," he says, bracing himself for another glare that thankfully doesn't come. "Hoping to persuade the beautiful woman she has grown into that this _is_ the season of magic after all," he finishes with a flourish.

Castle bows at the round of applause he gets from the ladies.

Kate gets up from her cushion on the floor to embrace him tightly, a little overcome by his sweet, sentimental, ridiculously thoughtful gesture.

"Thank you," she whispers in his ear, enjoying the flush of pleasure that tints his cheeks. "_You_ are _all _the proof of magic I need," she adds, slipping her hand into his and squeezing it tightly, before going back to sit on the floor.

* * *

"Okay, stockings," announces Martha, clapping her hands to spare her rather overwhelmed son's blushes.

"Rick, should go first," announces Kate. "Since you went last on Christmas Eve."

Castle loves the way she's joining in, getting a little bossy even, showing just how comfortable she feels here now.

She gets up from the floor and hands Castle his stocking, winking covertly at Alexis as she does so.

He shakes it, squidges it, and then looks at it strangely.

"Go on," urges Kate, squeezing Alexis' hand, where they sit next to one another cross-legged on the floor.

And Castle can't stop the image forming in his head again, of Alexis with an older sister; though in their case, Alexis would _become_ the older sister if he and Kate ever…yeah, pull it together, Rick.

He digs his hand into the pathetically empty looking stocking, while Kate and Alexis hold their breath. Martha is watching the two little minxes, though she has no idea what they're up to.

Castle withdraws his hand, and opens his fist to look at the solitary object lying in his palm.

"A lump of coal?" he says, as Kate and Alexis break into a fit of giggles.

There's a label tied to the hard black lump, and he turns it over, reading aloud.

"Sadly, Richard Edgar Castle ended up on the naughty list this year. Santa hopes for better things from you next year, son. Signed, Elf in Chief."

Kate and Alexis are too hysterical to speak, clutching at one another with tears in their eyes. It's the look on Castle's face – as if Santa's chief disapproving elf has _actually_ just spoken, word from on high.

"I _really_ got a lump of coal?" he repeats, peering into the empty stocking again in case he missed something the first time around, and then rereading the note…_slowly_.

"Actually, it's a lump of mesquite charcoal," Kate corrects him, pulling herself together, deciding it's time to put him out of his misery.

"Wh…where would you get charcoal in the middle of December?" he asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I may have stolen a piece when we went to stay in the Hamptons…from your BBQ."

"May have?"

"Okay, I did. I, Katherine Houghton Beckett, am guilty of larceny. The unlawful taking and removing of another's personal property. Though, in my defense, I did not intend to permanently deprive the owner of said property, since he is now back in full possession of it. Wanna arrest me?" she winks at him, holding out her wrists.

Castle grins at her, delighted by her little prank.

"You'll keep," he tells her, sending a thrill down her spine at all the ways she know he's going to make her pay for being so naughty.

"Were you in on this?" he asks his daughter.

"Kate asked me how you'd take it," she confesses.

"_And?_"

"I told her to go for it," grins Alexis, getting a high five from her partner in crime. "Serves you right for starting to plan Christmas before Halloween."

"I don't think I like this tag-team thing at all," he grumbles for effect, secretly loving the bond that's growing between his daughter and his girlfriend.

"Just get on with your stocking," says Kate, reaching behind the end of the couch to drag out a heavy sack of presents.

"Are these for me?" he asks, eyes like saucers.

"All for you. Knock yourself out, Lord Richard."

He grins up at Kate, still entirely too pleased with the title and land she's given him, and now this.

* * *

The gifts are from all three of them, and he takes ages looking at every single one, despite the speed at which he rips the wrapping paper off.

Alexis got him a striped Paul Smith scarf and a pair of rust-colored wool gloves shaped like reindeer antlers that are going to make crime scene appearances rather interesting. She also gave him a black t-shirt with an electronic drum machine built into the chest, and a colorful Tetris lamp for his office.

Martha gave him a soft leather wallet, some linen handkerchiefs, a hardcover book entitled "Secrets of The FBI", and a limited edition, black Moleskine notebook called a Passion Journal.

This one is dedicated to the Art of Coffee, and it contains an essential guide to coffee flavors and brewing; sections to record tasting notes, favorite coffee bars, recipes, personal collections; wish lists and checklists; and blank pages to customize.

"I thought you two might want to work on that together," she tells her son and Kate. "Since coffee seems to be one of your '_things_'," she adds, putting air quotes around the word.

"Martha, that is _so_ thoughtful," says Kate, touched that the woman has even noticed their shared obsession with good coffee, the ritual that has built up between them; his early way of saying 'Good morning my heart. How are you doing?'* His good morning kiss, long before they ever reached that stage in their relationship.

Kate has a few gifts for him too, including a Moleskine Passion Journal of her own, which she preambles with a little explanation.

"I…I thought that maybe we could…" she begins nervously, shifting on her cushion, drawing her knees up protectively in front of her chest. "Look…I…uh…I have some vacation time saved up," she explains, starting over, slightly changing tack, realizing that this is another big step for them. Well, for _her_ actually; looking to the future.

"Go on," says Castle, gently trying to help her along, because he thinks he can see where this is going, and if he's right, then she committing to a future for them, planning ahead, and that would just be _amazing_.

"_And_, I thought that we could maybe, possibly, plan a trip somewhere. For this spring or...or summer perhaps. But only if you want to? Somewhere neither of us has been before. Somewhere we could explore…_together_."

Martha and Alexis seem to be holding their breath, watching this back and forth.

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Kate," says Castle, ripping the giftwrap off to uncover a Travel Journal.

"I mean it'll take us a while to fill it, obviously, but…" Kate rambles nervously, wearing her tender heart on the sleeve of her pajama jacket.

The air in the living room seems to have stopped moving, four beating hearts the only measure of life.

"…we have all the time in the world," she adds quietly, biting her lip until Castle drops to his knees in front of her to wrap her in a crushing hug.

"I love it. And I love you for coming up with such a great idea. This is…we are going to have _so _much fun planning this trip," he squeaks, and the tension is broken when Alexis laughs at her childish, enthusiastic father, and Kate finally wraps her arms around his neck, sinking into his embrace.

* * *

Kate also got him a black umbrella with a shaft shaped like a Samurai sword, for those early wet mornings at outdoor crime scenes, along with an elegant silver Zippo hand warmer shaped like the classic lighter. She has a mini microscope attachment for his iPhone, which he is _only_ allowed to use once the crime scene has been released by CSU.

And as a joke, she also got him a pair of 'Handerpants' – white fingerless gloves with pale blue printed cuffs, styled to look like a pair of men's underwear; Calvin Klein tighty whities. A roll of glow in the dark toilet tissue gets an equally big reaction from her man-child.

Lastly, there's a pair of survival bracelets – 18 feet of coiled, military grade parachute rope with a shackle clip on one end that can be released to its fully length in an instant, and put to a thousand good uses. The wannabe spy in him latches onto the potential of this gift instantly.

"They took these up in the space shuttle," Kate tells him, sliding one of the stretchy neon-orange and black bracelets over his wrist. "Used them when the astronauts went out on a spacewalk to fix the Hubble telescope."

"_Seriously?_"

"Mmm-hmm," she hums, pleased at how well she apparently knows this man, if his reaction to her gifts is anything to go by.

"Thank you. These are amazing. Now, your turn."

"Eh, no. Alexis and I are going to wait until later. We really need to start preparing things for dinner."

"What about the photo?" he asks, glancing over at the camera and tripod he set up before breakfast.

"I've been thinking, darling," interjects his mother, drawing everyone's attention, "that maybe we should change things around a little this year. Wait until we're all dressed in our finery so that Jim can be a part of the family photograph too."

Kate casts startled eyes on Martha, surprised by how thoughtful she's being, how hard she's trying to include her, and now her dad, in today's festivities.

"Mother, I think that's an excellent idea," says Castle, hugging his mother tightly, grateful for her thoughtful suggestion.

"Oh, come now, darling. No need to get sentimental," she chides, brushing him off with a pat on the cheek, though the glint of moisture in her eyes tells a different story.

"Now, rumor has it that someone around here has a turkey to roast," she says dramatically, pinching her son's cheek this time, before sailing off upstairs for a long hot soak in the tub, leaving the cooking and preparations to the rest of them.

_A/N_: _Author's credit goes to lv2bnsb1 for the lump of coal idea. Her poor husband! And a big thank you to Nikki for the adorable brick patterned wallpaper chimney prompt – more to come on that one later. As readers you're awesome. I've had such fun hearing your ideas and stories. Thank you for sharing. _

_*This was a direct quote from Nathan Fillion, regarding Caskett's coffee ritual, so my thanks go to him too. Though I'm fairly certain he'll never read any of this!_

_Castle's gift ideas came from a website called firebox dot com if anyone has been searching for a Tetris lamp or glow in the dark toilet tissue! _

_On to the next chapter… Liv_


	18. Chapter 18 Timing Is Everything

Disclaimer: Hi ho, hi ho, the dwarfs would like to know.

* * *

_**Santa Baby**_

_**Chapter 18: Timing Is Everything**_

_Tuesday December 25th – Lunchtime_

"Everything under control out there?" asks Kate, coming out of the bathroom in the mists of a dissipating cloud of steam, toweling her hair dry, to find Castle sitting on the edge of the bed, his finger poised over the touchscreen of his phone.

"Hmm?" he grunts distractedly, looking up when Kate insinuates herself in between his legs, letting her hands come to rest on his shoulders.

"Rick? Everything okay?" she asks, kissing his neck as he slides a hand up the back of her bare, shower-warmed thigh, fingers flirting boldly beneath the hem of the scandalously short towel she's wearing.

"It is now," he murmurs, kissing the soft spot in between the warm valley of her breasts, his free hand spreading to cup the swell of her bottom and nudge her closer to him until her stomach is pressed against his chest.

"You look…troubled. Anything I can do to help?"

She isn't teasing him. She actually means it when she asks.

"I can thing of a few things," he leers, tugging on the front of her towel.

"Stop it. I'm being serious," she laughs, re-tucking the ends of the towel to stop it falling off, because they seriously do _not_ have time for that right now.

"Pfff," he sighs, blowing out a long breath, picking up the phone he had discarded by his side. "I was just debating whether or not to text Meredith, remind her to phone her daughter to wish her a Merry Christmas."

He looks kind of ashamed when he looks up at Kate, though she has no idea why _he_ should feel bad.

"Do you do that every year? Remind her, I mean?" Kate asks quietly.

"Since Alexis was three," he sighs, running a hand down over his stubbled jaw, tightening his other arm around Kate's waist.

He lays his head on her terrycloth-covered chest and lets her run her fingers through his hair.

"One year I decided to take a stand, _didn't_ call her. Alexis was in tears before bedtime, asking why her momma hadn't called. She was six years old, Kate. And by the time I _did_ track her down, she was at some private party in Laurel Canyon, too drunk to speak to her own kid."

"I'm sorry. That must have been horrible for you. For both of you."

"Why should _you_ be sorry? You've seen her. She likes to swan in and out of Alexis' life when it suits, like…like the fun aunt or her fairy godmother. _You've_ been more of a mother to Alexis lately..."

Kate stops massaging her fingertips over his scalp, stills her body completely at Castle's statement, a little surprised and unsure how to respond.

"I…I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just…"

"Shhh. You didn't. It…it just shouldn't _be_ like that. I'd give anything to have _my_ mom back. _You_ know that better than anyone. So I guess I just can't understand a mother not wanting to be there for her child."

"I know. I know you would," he soothes, resting his head against her chest again, listening to the calming pitter-pat of her heart.

"But then I'm not a mother, so…" Kate shrugs at this simple statement of fact.

She disentangles herself from Castle's arms, leaving her last thought unfinished, heading back to the bathroom to give him some privacy.

"You should call her," she tells him, leaning against the doorjamb, her chin pillowed against the back of her hand. "For Alexis sake…you...you should call her," Kate encourages, closing the bathroom door, leaving him alone.

* * *

Her dress is hanging in his closet, still swaddled in the black branded garment bag from the store. It's red, a lace cocktail dress she found in an independent SoHo boutique not far from the loft, one day she had a few hours off work to kill when Castle had to go to a meeting at Black Pawn.

He hasn't seen it yet, unless he peeked inside the garment bag after she left it hanging in his closet the day she bought it. But she knows she'll be able to tell the second he lays eyes on her whether he succumbed to temptation or not. He's a really terrible liar. She's called him on it one two many times, so now he's given up even trying to pretend. They were both sick of lies anyway, so this way is better; no pretense, no hiding, just honest to God openness.

With a scalloped lace neckline, the dress cuts across her collarbone from shoulder to shoulder, high and demure, though the silhouette of lace against her bare skin adds an undeniably sexy edge. The dress dips into a low v at the back, high enough to cover her bra, but low enough to expose the sensual jut of her shoulder blades every time she moves. The hemline hovers a few inches above her knee, sufficiently tempting to catch Castle's attention, with the allure of scalloped lace floating against her skin here too, but respectable enough to wear in front of their family. The three-quarter length lace sleeves finish it off with a touch of Audrey Hepburn glamour.

She is just slipping the second diamond earring into place, Castle's spectacular Christmas gift, when he comes in from the living room with a spoonful of something hot for her to taste.

"Kate is this sauce too salty?" he asks, stopping in his tracks the second he really sees her. "Woman are you trying to give me a heart attack? You look...you look _stunning_. Better than, you look _spectacular_, Kate."

Her cheeks flush with pleasure as she stands, gives him a little twirl.

"You approve then?"

"_Approve_? Where do I sign?" he jokes, still holding the rapidly cooling spoon, his other hand cupped underneath to catch wayward drips.

"You, eh, need a little help with the tasting?" she prompts, trying to get him back on point, though the ridiculously besotted look on his face is one she's proud to have put there.

"Screw the tasting, I'd rather taste you," he leers, coming towards her until she holds her arm out to stop him.

"Spill that on my dress and the only thing you will be signing for is the dry cleaning. Let me finish up in here and I'll put on an apron. We can finish the sauce together."

"Thanks. I…I'm just gonna go…out there," he stammers, still mesmerized by the sight of her in that dress.

"Oh, wait. Rick?" she calls, just as he leaves the room.

"Yes?"

"Did you speak to Meredith?"

"Yip. Sends her regards."

And wow, if that isn't some kind of progress.

"You…eh, she…so she knows? About us, I mean?"

He nods, smiling sympathetically at her hesitation, the slight discomfort he recognizes as they attempt to blend their families together, accommodate everyone's feelings.

"Alexis told her a few months back. Not that she was surprised it seems. Asked me what took us so long."

"Yeah?" laughs Kate, a little embarrassed, running her fingers through the fresh tumble of curls that frame her face, "I kind of get the impression that maybe _we_ were the only ones who were surprised."

"Mmm," he hums in agreement. "But what a surprise," he grins, stealing a kiss, and then backing out again with one hand held up in apology for coming too close with his spoon of congealing sauce.

* * *

They're working side-by-side in the kitchen, wearing novelty aprons that Castle insisted Kate pull out of her stocking. Hers has an illustration of a curvy Mrs. Claus on the front and the words '_Behind every great man…is a woman in a sexy Santa costume_' printed below it. The top edge of the apron is trimmed with marabou fur. She tried to protest, but the second he called her '_uptight_' she pulled it over her head and made him tie the red satin ribbon for her.

Castle's navy apron has two little stick figures on the front – a boy and a girl. The lady stick figure has a shocked look on her face because the grinning stick man is holding the straight line that should form her body. The words, '_I've got your back'_, are printed in a scratchy chicken scrawl beneath the cartoon.

Kate couldn't stop giggling when she saw it, said they should order two more for Ryan and Esposito. Result on that one.

"What time is it?" Castle asks, checking the turkey for the umpteenth time. "I can't find the timer."

"Here, wear my watch," she says, quickly unfastening her father's Omega Speedmaster 'Moonwatch', strapping it to his wrist before he can come up with any kind of reply.

Because _wow!_

"This is your dad's watch," he says, his surprise driving him to state the obvious.

"Amazing powers of observation, partner," she teases, tucking the end of the strap through the little retaining loop, before letting go of his wrist.

His shirt sleeves are rolled up to just below the elbow, exposing his strong forearms, and she wants nothing more than to run her hands up and down the smooth, firm layer of muscle and fine hair on display. But she daren't start that right now. They don't have time.

"Your dad who's due here any minute, Kate," he presses.

"Clever boy. Can you tell the time too?" she smirks, returning to her allotted duty of stirring the cranberry sauce.

"Won't…won't he wonder why I'm wearing his watch?" asks Castle. "I mean…I don't know what I mean," he admits finally, sidling up beside her to wrap his arms around her waist, turning her into him until the front of their bodies are pressed together, aprons kissing.

"I think he might be familiar with the concept of having to tell the time too," she jokes, letting out a squeak of protest when he squeezes her too hard.

"You know what I mean, love," says Castle, getting serious all of a sudden.

"I do. And I'm sure he'll be fine with it. If he even notices at all. Hey, he knows you got it repaired for me after the explosion. If anyone should be able to wear it…" she shrugs.

"I love it. Thank you."

"Just don't get too attached. I do want it back, chef."

"Understood, Mrs. Claus."

"Last time you call me that today."

"Until tonight," he leers, kissing her slowly, his fingers stroking her lace-covered rear.

"_So_ not happening," murmurs Kate, kissing him back, her body flooding with pleasure as they each let the other loose control for just a few seconds, until there's a loud, authoritative knock on the front door that is.

* * *

"Shit," hisses Castle, wiping his mouth and springing away from her, smoothing down the front of his apron. "That's your dad, isn't it?"

Kate laughs at his overreaction.

"Unless maybe Santa forgot something. Had to come back," she teases, eyes widening, so silly, so amused. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's him."

She looks really relaxed, completely at ease, and he feels like an uptight, nervous senior about pick up his date for the prom.

"You good?" she asks, giving him a second to gather himself before they go to answer the door together.

"Uh…yeah, think so. My hair okay?"

"Hair's perfect, stud. Come on. He doesn't bite," she teases, throwing him a "_much_," along with a saucy wink as she takes his hand and drags him to his own front door.

Jim Beckett is standing patiently in Castle's hallway, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm, and a gift bag dangling from the other hand.

"_Dad_," exclaims Kate, taking the wine from him so that she can pull him in for a tight embrace, his familiar lemon-scented cologne filling her nostrils as he kisses her cheek and squeezes her tight. "How was the trip over? Snow any worse?"

"No worse. Looks real pretty though," he tells her, smoothing his free hand over her hair, savoring this special moment with his daughter, his only child. "Merry Christmas, Katie," he whispers, giving her an extra squeeze before reluctantly letting go. This their first Christmas together in years.

"Mr. Beckett," says Castle, stepping forward to offer the man his hand, a little stiff, a lot nervous, if his fixed grin is anything to go by. "Merry Christmas, Sir. Come on in?"

"Merry Christmas to you, Rick. And it's Jim, remember," he teases, highlighting Castle's nerves without having to utter another word.

Kate crowds Castle's back, her hands finding his waist, propelling him ahead of her, fingers stroking his ribs to let him know that she's here and everything is going to be fine. Her own version of '_I've got your back'_.

* * *

Once Jim's coat is hung, a glass of non-alcoholic fizz pressed into his hand, Alexis and Martha appear as if by magic.

"Jim," beams Martha, swooping in for a Christmas kiss from Kate's dad. "Welcome, welcome. I hope these two have been looking after you?" she asks, giving Kate and Castle the once over, expecting them to fall short as hosts for some reason.

"Thank you, Martha. They've been doing an excellent job. Alexis, good to see you again. Merry Christmas," he says, kissing Castle's daughter on the cheek.

Kate herds everyone over to the couch, telling them to take a seat, relax, laying out some hors d'oeuvres for them to snack on before lunch is served.

"Love the apron, Katie," her dad tells her, tugging on the hem, chuckling when she blushes, having forgotten all about Castle's silly stocking filler.

"Rick's idea," she confesses, smacking Castle on the ass when he gets within range.

"What was my idea?" he asks, letting his hand drift to her waist, his _no touching_ plan blown to shreds in seconds.

"This," says Kate, plucking at the apron and shaking her head at him.

"Thought it might be," chuckles her dad. "So, how do you like the timepiece, son?" Jim asks a startled Castle.

The man misses _nothing!_

"Uh, sure. Great watch, Jim. Kate got fed up with me constantly asking the time…Turkey basting, you know how it is," he adds nervously, trying to clarify and almost over-egging it. "So she…I'm giving it back, obviously. Family heirloom 'n' all," he adds, panicking when he sees Kate do the math faster than him, working out exactly where this awkward conversation might be headed if tricky Jim Beckett has anything to do with it.

"Heirs?" nods Jim, grinning at their discomfort. "Got something to tell me, you two?"

Kate glares at Castle, panic pinking her cheeks, squeezing his fingers in a joint show of support regardless of his stupidity in opening them up to this line of questioning.

"Uh, no, Sir," Castle gulps, looking at Kate in alarm. "J-just a turn of phrase…as far as I know," he adds, making things even worse when he looks to Kate for clarification.

_Clarification that she's not actually pregnant!_

Are you _serious_, thinks Kate, giving him a '_you've got to be kidding me'_ look that freezes him to the spot.

Because he suddenly realizes that he has absolutely no idea what she thinks about this. Does she even want kids, with him, at all? They kind of skipped that whole discussion on day one, caught up in an overwhelming maelstrom of long-suppressed, desperate need for one another. He just kind of assumed, and god that was so wrong. He knows now that's she's on the pill, but that first night…

"Dad, behave," chides Kate, tugging on Castle's wrist, dragging him over to the kitchen, leaving her dad with a warning arch of her eyebrow and a jerk of her head towards Alexis.

* * *

"Jeez, that was awkward," mumbles Castle, blowing out a breath, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. "Is he for real?"

"_Is he_…? Are _you?_" she hisses, voice kept low so the others can't hear them. "As far as I know?" she mimics, deepening her voice. "What the hell was that, Rick? You think I'd keep you in the dark if I was pregnant?"

"Well, I…" he flounders. Damn turkey. Damn timing.

"You do? You think I'd hide something like that from you?" she says, looking increasingly horrified.

"Kate," he shushes, getting a grip on himself, and in turn, on her. He grasps her wrists, makes her look at him. "Of course I don't. We…we've never talked about that stuff. That's all."

"Rick, I'm not Meredith," she whisper-hisses. "I couldn't keep something like that from you. From Alexis."

"Hey, come with me," he soothes, walking her over to the relative privacy of his office. "You are _nothing_ like Meredith. And if you want to, we can talk about it. Soon as today is over. You will make an amazing mother, Kate. I can tell you that for nothing. If _you_ want to," he adds, tenderly kissing her cheek, leaving the ball in her court.

He looks down at her father's watch, the source of this sudden burst of angst, and then back up at his partner.

"Now. I've got this rather large bird I need to go see," he jokes, squeezing her elbow. "Will you be okay?"

Kate laughs, the bubble of it erupting from her chest at his poor joke.

"Sure. Knock yourself out. I hope she's worth it," she parries.

"We'll talk about this, Kate. I promise," he adds, before leaving her standing looking at his bookshelf, wondering what the hell just happened and why she's suddenly staring at one of Alexis' baby photos with a deep sense of longing and a hot rush of fertile imagination.

* * *

Christmas lunch is a spectacular feast worthy of a Richard Castle culinary production. They have homemade butternut squash soup, followed by a big tender succulent roast turkey, accompanied by Castle's special gravy, wild mushroom, chestnut and apricot stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, Kate's homemade cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and crescent rolls Alexis made from buttery, flaky pastry.

Martha was not entrusted with dessert this time, after the conversational fiasco that was sparked by her '_death by chocolate_' pots the last time Jim came to dinner. Kate made a Tiramisu instead, finally succeeding after a couple of attempts to infuse the sponge fingers with the espresso she had prepared for the dessert, after Castle kept drinking it when she left the demitasse of coffee aside to cool.

They all settled back in their chairs, sated, stuffed actually, if they were honest; that special warmth resulting from sharing good food in the company of those one cares for most making each of them happy and relaxed.

* * *

"How about you let Alexis and I clear up?" suggests Jim, when Kate rises from the table to make a start on gathering the dirty dishes.

She looks so elegant in her red dress, reminds him so sharply, sweetly of her mother, and he wants her to enjoy today too, so grateful to be included in this first festive family gathering.

"I have a better idea, Jim dearest," offers Martha, as Kate and Castle exchanged raised eyebrows at this new cooperation between their parents. "Many hands make light work. If we all muck in, we'll have this lot cleared in no time."

"Mother, you are a constant source of surprise," declares Castle, unsure when he last heard his mother offer to help with _any_ domestic task that didn't simply involve putting an empty bottle of wine in the trash.

"Richard, darling, you will learn one of these days that it pays to keep those you love on their toes. And you would do well to remember that, dear," she stage whispers in the vague vicinity of his ear, leaving Kate to stifle a giggle. "Kate Beckett is by _far_ the smartest woman _you've_ ever dated. Treat her like a thoroughbred and you won't go wrong," she says, sagely tapping the side of her nose, as if letting him in on one of the great secrets of the universe.

"Thoroughbred?" Kate and Alexis mouth at one another, giggling like little schoolgirls when Castle groans in embarrassment and slaps his hand against his forehead.

"I am _so_ not taking relationship advice from my mother," he whispers in Kate's ear, slipping his arm around her waist, and lunging at her to steal a kiss when he thinks no one is watching.

She giggles again, pushing against his chest when he changes tack and leans in to graze her neck with his teeth, growling just below her ear.

"Walk," she chokes, writhing in his arms. "We should take a walk."

"In the snow? Are you serious?" asks Castle, eyes lighting up with too bright joy.

She forgets how little it takes to make this man happy sometimes, and it humbles her again and again.

"We always took a walk after Christmas lunch; mom, dad and I. Kind of a Beckett family tradition. Didn't matter how bad the weather got. It saved me from going stir crazy, and…you might just work up an appetite," Kate informs him, letting him reel her in this time, their hips pressed flush, chests brushing. "And I don't mean for more food, Mr. Castle," she teases, her lips lazily brushing the curve of his ear.

"Why Miss Beckett, whatever could you mean?" he replies, having fun playing with her, while the others get on with the serious work of clearing up.

"Cut it out you two. Kid and parents present," reminds Alexis, laughing when her dad and Kate ignore her reprimand, and stay entwined together over by the tree, whispering.

"I'll get our coats," grins Castle, watching her watching him - her soft eyes glancing off his lips, his chin, his ear - soaking up the feel of her under his hands, so grateful for how well today is unfolding for all of them.

_A/N_: _More lovely reviews. Yay! The gift that keeps on giving! Hope you're still enjoying this. I know there are a lot of Christmas stories out there, so I appreciate you sticking with this one. Liv_


	19. Chapter 19 Walk With Me

Disclaimer: Rudolph spoiled his ballot paper with an ill-placed, smudged hoof-print! *sighs*

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 19: Walk With Me_**

_Tuesday December 25th – Late Afternoon_

The snow is crisp underfoot, crunchy where a fresh layer of ice crystals have set to form a skin on top, leaving it glittering in the low light, when the Castle-Rodgers-Beckett clan descend to the sidewalk in front of Castle's SoHo loft.

The streets around Crosby and Broome are pretty deserted. The sun is beginning to set, and so the fresh snowfall has been left more or less undisturbed by careless feet; a clean white blanket over the city, tucking it in for the night.

The parking garage diagonally opposite his building, its elevated, suspended stacks of cars layered like Matchbox toys left hovering in midair, is saturated in downy pillows of white, softening the normally hard edges of the space-saver machinery. The back wall of the lot is now spray-painted white by the whip and swirl of wind and drifting snow, the three-and-a-half story poster advertising the first season of 'Nashville' peppered with white too, the faces of Connie Britton and Hayden Panettiere re-rendered in soft focus by a glittering veil of snowflakes.

Kate notices the lack of noise, the heavy insulting effect the snow has on the city; deadening the omnipresent sound of traffic over on nearby Canal Street.

* * *

"Martha, would you do me the honor?" asks Jim Beckett, offering a practically swooning Martha his arm.

"Well, aren't you quite the gentleman," flusters Martha, her shocking pink, gloved fingers fluttering near her throat. "Now I know where you get your beautiful manners, darling," she turns to say to a concerned looking Kate.

"Walk ahead," Kate hisses at Castle, tugging him in the direction of Spring Street.

They're all bundled up in outdoor clothing; heavy winter coats, thick boots, brand new Christmas scarves and hats. Castle is wearing the ridiculous reindeer antler gloves Alexis put in his stocking, and Kate lets out a giggle as an Edward Scissorhands-esque set of fingers wrap around her arm, flexing comically over her wool covered biceps.

"What's up?" he asks quietly, feeling her relax against him, settling into his side, her hip brushing against his with every step.

"Your mom and my dad…" she whispers, casting a quick, furtive glance over her shoulder. "Oh god," she groans, covering her eyes. "I can't believe I'm about to say this. But you don't think…?"

Castle looks back now too at the mismatched couple that make up the sum total of their combined parentage, remembering how solicitous, how attentive Jim Beckett has been to his sometimes difficult mother all afternoon.

"_Nah!_" they both say at exactly the same time, shaking their heads emphatically, as if just saying the word and backing it up with this unequivocal gesture will make it so, and silly smiles warm their faces, reaching all the way to their eyes.

"Yeah. What was I thinking?" mutters Kate, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Right," grins Castle. "Your seriously serious father and my…"

"Epically flighty mother," Kate finishes for him.

They look at one another for a second, wondering whether to take issue with each other's description of their parents. But something unspoken settles between them, the differences too real and apparent to argue with or take offence at, and so they silently agree to drop it.

"Where are we headed by the way?" asks Castle, letting Kate take the lead since this walk is after all her suggestion. "I mean, not that we _need_ to be headed anywhere specific to enjoy the journey," he adds quickly.

"You're learning, you know that? You are _actually_ learning, Rick." Kate congratulates him.

"What?" he laughs, tugging her even closer, pleased that _he_ has just pleased _her_, whatever the reason. "Learning what?"

"Patience. Contentment. You…you used to be…well, anyway _I _used to _think_ that you were so flighty, immature. Always in a rush to get to the next big thing."

"Like my mother is flighty, you mean?" he asks, relishing the chance to learn more about himself through Kate's eyes, and a little startled by how she keeps opening up today.

"No," laughs Kate, shaking her head, her curls dancing around her shoulders. "No. Your mother is…_unique_. No, I just…I used to watch you, hopping from subject to subject when we were working a case. Your brain never stopped in any one spot for long. If one outlandish theory didn't fit, you just jumped right on to the next ridiculous suggestion. You had the attention span of a gnat," she laughs, when he sucks in a breath. "Or that's what I saw in the beginning anyway. Used to drive me mad. I…I told Montgomery, after we worked that first case together, that you were like a nine year old on a sugar rush," she confesses with an embarrassed giggle.

"No wonder you wouldn't sleep with me. Eww, Kate," he says, wrinkling his nose, and giving her a little shove.

She laughs and then her laughter turns into a shriek when she slips on a compacted patch of snow, a little mogul on the uneven sidewalk. But Castle is there to catch her, his arm strong and solid around her back.

"I didn't sleep with you because you were an arrogant playboy; totally full of yourself. It had nothing to do with your childish behavior."

"Ah, but you _didn't_ say it was because you weren't attracted to me," he says, looking so smug.

"Did I mention full of yourself?" jokes Kate, blushing.

Because she can't lie, and dammit but he's right, she _did_ find him attractive, even when he was driving her completely insane.

"It's okay. I know you were hot for me, Kate. You don't have to pretend anymore."

She splutters, trying to free her hand from his arm. But he holds her firmly, and in the end she lets him, the risk of broken bones if she falls too great. Hell, who is she kidding? She just hates to be parted from him.

"_Pretend?_ A little sure of yourself there, Castle."

"Ah, so we're back to Castle," he nods sagely, smirking, enjoying this immensely. "Think I might have hit a nerve, detective."

"Okay. What makes you so sure that I was 'hot for you', as you so poetically put it?"

"You kept me around for one thing. If you'd really wanted rid of me, you know you could have done it. Got me kicked out for violating some NYPD code, stealing evidence, leaving my fingerprints at a crime scene, refusing to stay in the car when you gave me an express order. You could have set me up no problem. One phone call, Kate."

"Maybe."

"_Definitely_, Detective Beckett. _So_…why'd you keep yours truly around?" he pushes.

"You know why."

"Tell me."

"Rick," she sighs, looking up at him, to see if he's really going to make her do this.

"_Tell_. _Me,_" he repeats, nudging her hip with his as they pause at the crosswalk.

"I liked having you around," she sighs, after the admission. "Not right away, but after a while. You…you made my job more fun, made the hard stuff lighter. You were the partner I thought I didn't want, didn't need, even. Not since Royce, anyway. And you made me fall in love with you," she confesses, turning away from him to stare blindly at a shuttered storefront, biting her lip as she reads the torn notice taped onto the door, flapping in the cold breeze.

"I didn't _make_ you, Kate. I just fell in love with you first. That's all. So, you see it was really _you_ who turned _me_ into the person that you were able to fall in love with in the end. We molded each other."

"Now _that_ was poetic," she says, turning to look up at him with real admiration for his insight. "You really think we've changed one another that much?"

"I…I know you've changed me for the better, and I'm sure my mother, my daughter, both of them would thank you for it."

"And me? Am I really so different?"

"You're softer, more open. You let me help you more, which I am so grateful for. You're prepared to lean on me, instead of going it alone all the time, and I think you see the strength in being able to do that now, whereas before you would have seen it as a weakness."

Kate listens to him carefully as he sum up all the ways she's changed.

"What we're doing today – celebrating Christmas with our family – _big change_. Can you imagine? Four years ago, this would have been a disaster."

"No kidding," she laughs, dropping her head to his shoulder for a moment, imagining all the awkward ways it would have gone wrong.

"So, it's all good," says Castle, summing up their honest exchange.

"It's all good," agrees Kate, moving with him to cross the street.

* * *

Castle ducks just in time to avoid a slew of melting snow slipping off the sloping, cantilevered ladder of an old fire escape right next to the Crosby Street Hotel, pushing Kate ahead of him, his hands tight on her waist as his quick reaction saves her from a puddle of melting slush running down her back.

They turn right, cutting up the narrow alley that is Jersey Street, emerging out onto Lafayette near the ancient Florentine perfumery, Santa Maria Novella.

"Hey, Alexis," calls Castle, dropping Kate's arm and tugging his daughter up to join them, linking arms with her instead. "Remember we bought that amazing milk soap from that old perfume place when we went to Florence?"

"Santa Maria Novella? Sure. Dad, how could I forget?" she giggles.

Alexis turns to Kate, hooking her free arm through the detective's so that they walk three abreast, linked together like a daisy chain in the snow.

"I was ten. We bought a box of soap in this amazing, four hundred year old perfumery in the middle of Florence, with vaulted ceilings and these painted murals on the walls that made it look more like a church inside than a store. The bars of soap smelt like gardenias, and I loved how creamy they were. The lather was so soft and velvety. I spent ages in the hotel's giant bathtub every night, floating. But then dad told me that they made the soap from ass's milk, like the stuff Cleopatra supposedly bathed in…and it put me right off," complains Alexis, shoving her grinning father, and inadvertently tugging Kate with her.

"Hey, they _are_ made of whole milk. So I got the wrong animal," he laughs, when Alexis drops Kate's arm and tries to pinch him, breaking up the links of their paper chain. "So sue me!"

* * *

They shuffle places. Castle escapes Alexis' clutches by taking over the job of squiring his mother, and Kate joins arms with her dad, feeling the need for a little quiet time alone with him today.

"Post-lunch walk was your idea, Katie-bug?" he asks, though they both know he's not really asking.

"Gotta keep up our own traditions," she tells him, leaning into his side as he wraps his arm around her waist. "Or this lot'll swallow us whole with their over abundance of Christmas spirit," she laughs, watching Alexis threaten to pelt her father with a snowball while he uses Martha as a human shield.

"You're having a great time though," he states, framing another non-question with a needless lift of his voice to signal this semi-interrogative statement. "You look really happy, Katie."

"I am," she admits without hesitation. "I…_he_…he makes me happy, dad. It took me too long to see just how much. I almost lost him."

"I don't believe that's even possible. He's…_besotted_ is the best description I can come up with," chuckles Jim, gloved fingers playfully squeezing her side. "Never seen a man with such a bad case of love sickness."

"You make it sound so…_unpleasant_," huffs Kate, wrinkling her nose at her dad's funny comment.

"Must have been, when he had to suffer alone," replies her father pensively. "Before you joined him, I mean," he adds, making bold assumptions about her heart that she finds she doesn't mind one bit.

"I'm trying to make it up to him. Every day I try," she presses, ducking when one of Alexis' wayward snowballs skims past them, barely missing her shoulder.

"Sorry, Kate," the girl yells, clutching an old bishop's crook lamppost to steady herself, its chipped brown, cast iron edifice replete with the rust of old age and a century's worth of weathering.

"He knows you love him, Katie," counsels her father. "How could he not? You've changed so much since you started working together," he adds, startling Kate, given the discussion she and Castle have just had on this very subject. "Your mom would have loved him too. A Christmas like this? All her dreams come true," he laughs, shaking his head at some private memory. "And Rick would have charmed her from dawn to dusk. He's a keeper, Katie-bug."

Kate's feels as if her throat is closing up, a lump the size of Castle's mesquite charcoal briquette threatening to block her airway.

"I wish…" she chokes, tears springing to her eyes, unable to vocalize the rest of the thought.

"So do I, sweetheart. So do I," her father soothes. "But we're getting better at this, you and me. At letting the light back in," he says, drawing her close again, shielding her grief from the others. "Takes time is all."

"I know. I know," she whispers, barely getting the words out.

"No rule says you can't experience joy, and love, and laughter while you work through the pain," he adds wisely.

Kate nods silently, processing her dad's words of wisdom, amazed at how matter-of-fact he can be when discussing this topic, when even the fuzziest remembering still has the ability to almost bring her to her knees at times.

"Is that what _you're_ doing?"

She really hopes he says yes.

"It's different for me," he tells honestly, crushing her heart just a little. "Johanna, your mom…well, let's just say there won't be a Rick in my life, that's for damn sure," he says emphatically. "But to see you so happy, to share days like this, Katie…that's what gives me joy. That's why we have kids, I guess," he adds none too subtly. "They give you hope, a reason to go on when things get…when times are tough."

"_Dad_…" Kate starts to say.

"Don't wait too long, Katie. I _know_ your job is important to you. And I understand why. The good that you do for other people, it makes me so proud. But your mom would never forgive me if I didn't poke my nose in where it wasn't wanted, especially about this."

Kate is stunned out of her sorrow by her dad's forthright advice.

"Wow! Twice in one day," she laughs a little shakily. "You're not dropping this anytime soon, I see."

"Gotta take my chances while I can," he grins, bumping against her side. "While you're in a good mood," he adds cheekily.

"I hear you, dad," Kate says quietly, turning him onto Mulberry Street, heading west until they pass by the Old St Patrick's Cathedral. "I do."

* * *

They meander their way along Mulberry Street until Kate decides to make a right onto Kenmare, walking them a couple of blocks until they skirt the lower edge of Petrosino Square, the green benches empty of people today, thick bands of snow layered across the wooden slats of each seat.

There's a homeless man nestled in the doorway of a rather incongruous, closed-down, Ramen noodle joint, his knees buried under a dirty blanket, a flee-bitten wolf of a dog tucked in beside him, old muzzle lying on two sandy-colored paws atop a layer of stained brown cardboard. The man's beard is thick, unkempt, and stained brown by tobacco like the tips of his fingers. There's a homemade tattoo she can make out, scattered across the knuckles of his exposed left hand, that reads, '_Semper_'. She doesn't have to see what stains the skin of his right hand to guess at this man's story.

Kate pauses to let her dad stuff a few dollars into the man's beat-up McDonald's paper cup.

"There, but for the grace of God…" he mutters, expecting a dry comment from his daughter that never comes.

"Merry Christmas, Sir," calls the man, once he rouses himself.

Kate looks back over her shoulder when they reach the corner, because she knows, she knows with a stunning certainty that her partner will be stopping to do the exact same thing; offering a few kind words for the homeless man along with his cash. These generous men she has in her life, their good, kind, tender hearts making her want to do her very best for both of them. Their presence a much-needed counterbalance to the grit and the darkness she comes face-to-face with almost everyday.

* * *

"Not far now," says Kate, checking again that their little group is still following, the snow starting to swirl in ever heavier eddies now; thick, fat flakes that are sure to lie on top of the already-frozen ground.

They're thrown left onto Lafayette when Kenmare reaches a dead end, the streetlights bursting to life all around them, adding their orangey glow to the cool blue of the snow.

Kate makes a swift right after just one block, back onto Broome Street, Castle's loft now in sight on the next corner.

"You'll stay?" she asks, suddenly unwilling to let her dad go. Not having had nearly enough of his company yet.

"Rick already asked me," he tells her, chuckling so that she blushes.

They're such a couple already, and she sometimes has no idea how on earth that happened so quickly and without her even noticing.

"_And?_" she asks archly, trying to cover her own embarrassment.

"My bag is in the guest room, Katie. You were too busy flirting with your boyfriend to notice," he teases, pausing outside _Aero_, an upscale interiors store that Kate loves to browse in when she gets a chance.

The store is full to the gunnels with vintage items, modern classics, art deco pieces; an eclectic mix of styles and finishes, reproductions and genuine antiques. Her dad is admiring a polished nickel tripod lamp that's modeled on an old movie studio spotlight. A reproduction of a 1930's piece, chrome covered feet at the end of its solid black ash legs.

"I've had my eye on that one too," says Kate. "Great minds, hmm?"

"What about Rick? Does he like it?" teases her dad, earning a groan from his daughter, as she turns him away from the store to propel him the last few yards to the building she sometimes catches herself thinking of as home.

"I'm just saying,' he presses, laughing as she tries to drown him out with a few well-timed 'la la la's'. "Combining two homes can be tricky, Katie. When your mom and I did it we didn't have _nearly_ as much stuff. And let me tell you, your boyfriend has _good stuff_. Not the kind of junk your mother made me throw out. So, I'd be careful before you go committing yourself to buying anymore lamps."

He's full on laughing now as Kate hurls a snowball at his head. He fails to duck in time, the powdery ball breaking apart when it hits him square in the chest.

"You're attacking your own father?" asks Castle, jogging and sliding the last few steps to catch up with them, leaving Alexis to hold onto her grandmother. His breath comes in great white puffs, and his cheeks look healthy and pink from the cold

"Did he criticize your cranberry sauce, love? Because I thought the extra tartness added a little something special to the whole meal."

Kate gasps, and her father lets out a real belly laugh at Castle's audacious comment.

"You told me it was perfect," she complains, smacking his chest when he wraps his arms around her waist, tugging her up against him.

"_No_. But I might have said that _you_ were perfect," he corrects, smiling at her adorable grimace.

"Oh God," groans Kate, dropping her forehead to the snow dusted front of his pea coat. "Tell me you did _not_ just say that, Richard Castle?"

"Oh no, he _did_. We all heard him," pipes up her dad, rabble-rousing, and getting Martha and Alexis to join in. "Didn't we gang?"

The chorus of yeses are drowned out when Castle brushes his nose against hers, reveling in the cold kiss of their skin.

"Missed you," he murmurs, ghosting her lips with a smile, as his fingers knead the muscles either side of her spine.

"Missed you more," she whispers back, allowing him to lead her back into the building she knows could soon be home.

_A/N_: _If there is a tradition I can add to this tale, a walk after Christmas lunch would be one of mine. We had a large green park a few miles from my house when I was growing up, and we'd walk there as a family to work off our lunch, probably wearing some new item of clothing or dragging a doll or a bike along when I was small. SoHo in the snow makes just as good a playground as the one I used to visit. Hope you enjoyed it too. Liv_


	20. Chapter 20 On This Christmas Night

Disclaimer: Well, the vote is finally complete, and it seems that no matter how good I've been this year, I still don't own Castle or any of it's characters. Boo!

* * *

**_Santa Baby_**

**_Chapter 20: On This Christmas night_**

_"On this winter's night_

_We'll look back on the year_

_On this winter's night_

_We'll count our blessings_

_On this Winter's night_

_We will remember"_

_Lady Antebellum – 'On This Winter's Night'_

_Tuesday December 25th – Early Evening_

Once back in the warmth of the loft after their walk, it's a flurry of scarves and gloves, coats and boots that fill the air in place of snowflakes, as everyone divests themselves of layers of clothing all at once. Kate takes over hanging duties, arranging the heavy outerwear in the hall closet.

Jim follows Castle to the kitchen on the pretext of helping him make hot chocolate for everyone, and Kate suddenly finds herself standing alone by the front door, watching the family scatter to their own tasks, a deep sense of peace settling over her. This is easier than she thought it would be, blending together.

_Celebrating_.

Martha and Alexis are deciding which movie to watch. Jim is leaning against the kitchen counter chatting quietly to her boyfriend. Castle's posture looks suspiciously stiff to Kate's eye, the line of his shoulders just a little too firm, the profile of his spine a little too upright despite his busy hands. Kate can't quite see his face, but she strongly suspects that Castle might be being subjected to a little 'chat' by her father; something similar to the topics he's tried out on her today.

"Everything okay over here?" she asks, deciding a little preemptive strike might be necessary.

The two men start laughing raucously at something Jim says just as she approaches, and that throws her a little; this sudden ease they've achieved around one another, whatever the topic they're discussing.

Castle spins around, looking more guilty than afraid, and the plot thickens.

"Your…ah…your dad was just telling me…uh," he flounders, his face and neck coloring with the effort of coming up with something on the spot. Not usually a Castle problem, but if they're discussing what she thinks they're discussing…

"I was just telling Rick about the lamp I was admiring in that fancy store down the street," Jim fills in for him, cool as a cucumber.

Cunning as any lawyer.

"The lamp? _Right._ I see," says Kate, looking at Castle the whole time, thinking 'two can play at this game', and 'I will only get it out of you later, sweet man'.

"Yeah, from an old movie set, huh? That sounds kinda cool," Castle manages, cinching his brain back together. "Think of the history something like that holds."

"It's a reproduction, Rick. Not from an _actual_ movie set. _Reproduction_," repeats Kate, just as her brain latches onto the 'r' word that she seems intent on repeating out loud, and shit, not the best choice really, given the circumstances, if they've been talking about what she thinks they've been talking about.

Her dad is grinning at her as if he's just realized this too. She gives him a glare, cheeks flushing, but it just bounces off him harmlessly, falling to the floor between them; a pointless reprimand.

"Anyway, how's that hot chocolate coming?" asks Kate, changing the subject. "We going to be drinking it this side of 2013 or what?" she asks dryly, sidling up alongside her partner to lean on the counter.

"How about I let you take over as sous chef, honey," suggests Jim, obviously finished with his medalling, his work here done.

* * *

"_So_, you gonna tell me what my dad was bending your ear about?" asks Kate, skating her fingers over Castle's spine after fetching the bag of mini marshmallows from the pantry and the shaker of cinnamon from the spice rack.

"What _is_ this? Some kind of intervention?" he laughs nervously, turning to glance at Kate even as he keeps stirring the milk to prevent it from boiling over.

"_That_ sounds kind of serious. Does it _need_ to be? An intervention, I mean?"

"I…uh. Kate," he pauses, preparing. "You…you remember the conversation we said we would have after today was over?" he says, swallowing obviously, his throat bobbing, eyes dancing with excitement; two milky, opaque, full moons reflected in his dilated pupils as he hovers over the copper saucepan of warming milk.

"Mmm-hmm," hums Kate, crossing her arms over her chest and flaring out one hip as she leans into him. "_After_," she whispers, accidentally brushing his ear with her lips, and it's so electric, the shiver that passes between them.

"What if I'm not able to wait that long?" asks Castle, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, stroking his thumb over corded tendons and baby-soft skin.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to," she insists, glancing over at their assembled family, before gently freeing her wrist from his grasp. "_You_ have a family photograph to shoot before everyone passes out on the couch."

"_Exactly_. _Family_ photo, Kate. Imagine…imagine if there was an extra little person in the line-up next year…" he says breathlessly, fingers slipping around her narrow wrist once more, anchoring them together as his eyes lose focus.

Boy, has her dad ever done a number on him.

"_Castle_," she says, a little more sharply, warning him again, because this is too much. And not_ her_ idea, more to the point. She feels panicked by this sudden friendly take-over.

* * *

A baby? A family of her own? The thought scares her. Terrifies her on some levels. She's in the midst of allowing herself the first happy Christmas since her mother died, and this…the very _idea_ of this frightens the hell out of her. Because a child seems like too much to risk loving, if there's ever the possibility of losing again.

She's just getting used to having Castle burrowed inside her heart, latched on as if they're slowly morphing into one person. And if she ever lost him she _knows_ with an absolute certainty that she would never survive that loss.

Her mother's death shaped her into the adult she is today, chiseled and carved her hard lines and toughened edges. The same hard lines Richard Castle has spent four plus years buffing down, smoothing off, softening. But if anything were to happen to him, it would be her complete undoing, her destruction, her disintegration, dark matter sucking her into a black hole of oblivion.

Because, _now_, Richard Castle exists in all the small things in her life, the tiny, the miniscule, the insignificant details…_and the massive_.

He's in every cup of coffee, the smell of her shampoo, clothes she wears and thinks of as his because he once admired them, he's in every book they've shared, every movie they've watched together – too few by far, so far. He's in a thousand different songs, he's in every place they've ever made love, every crime scene they've ever visited, every meal they've ever shared, every kiss he's pressed to her lips, every brush of his hand, every sweet word, thought and deed.

He's in every place he shouldn't be, every case they've worked and even some they haven't, he's in the chair beside her desk at work, the little stick man in her desk drawer, her post-it notes, her pens, he's in her friends, he's in everything of hers he's ever touched, all the things she owned before she ever met him that he's lifted, handled, left his prints on along with a new layer to the story; just as he has left his prints all over her body, her heart, and her mortal soul.

His memory is woven throughout her life, in stories of her childhood that's she's shared, in memories of her mother even, her life rewritten to include him in it years before they ever met. He's in everything.

He _is_ everything.

* * *

"Rick, I can't do this now. Please, just…drop it."

"_Please?_" she adds, when he goes to open his mouth again, not understanding, not…because how could he possibly?

He squeezes her elbow, hard, a little too hard, and she winces, drawing away from his touch, before crashing back into him to wrap him up in an embrace so fierce that it forces the air from their lungs, nearly knocks him off his feet.

"Whoa, what was _that_? Everything okay here?" he asks, eyes full of alarmed concern, tipping her chin up gently to check on her.

"We'll talk. But I'm going to need you to listen, okay?"

"I can listen. Kate, you know I can listen."

"Good," she says, the panic subsiding for the time being, slowly ebbing away, the bad thoughts being chased from her heart by the light in this man's eyes, at least for now.

"Make sure you get my best side," she whispers, patting his chest, offering a faint smile he returns, helping the joy seep back in, her heart settling to a normal rhythm, his steady gaze holding her up.

* * *

With Castle playing professional photographer, a comedy of errors ensues.

First, he arranges them around the Christmas tree in height order. But they end up looking something like the Von Trapp family from The Sound of Music - Castle next to Jim, then Kate next to Martha, and finally Alexis - and while it might have worked in 1930's Austria, it's not a good look in 21st Century Manhattan. Not enough of a boy-girl thing going on.

Next, he rearranges them so that Kate and her dad form the center of the photograph, since this is their first 'Castle Christmas', flanked on either side by Martha and then Alexis. He adjusts the tripod beneath his tricked-out, professional grade, ultra-complex, DSLR camera, finally manages to set the timer, and then realizes too late that he hasn't made a spot for himself. The flash goes off as he hovers in front of all of them with his backside facing the lens, still trying to figure out where he should go. Apart from a photo of Castle's butt, which Kate is threatening to frame, the rest of them are flapping their hands in laughter and panic, trying to get him to decide on a position…quickly.

Finally, Jim takes over, acting as art director. He places Kate and Castle at the heart of the photograph, with Castle's arm around Kate's waist, and then he angles the couple a little towards one another to make room for the others, their shoulders kissing. Alexis in seated on a low stool in front of her dad and Kate, while Jim stands by his daughter's side and Martha by her son's, thus achieving a good boy-girl mix and a harmonious, heart-shaped little grouping.

To the refrain of Eartha Kitt's playful version of 'Santa Baby', the timer works perfectly this time, their smiles are truly worthy of a Kodak moment, and when the shutter clicks, an instant in history is captured that Kate will come to treasure more than she ever thought possible.

* * *

"Well, guys. I am pretty tuckered out," says Jim Beckett, an hour and a half later, after two rounds of Trivial Pursuit in which he and Kate manage to beat the Castle-Rodgers clan healthily.

"Who is credited with introducing the _latent fingerprint_ as a means to identify _criminals_? Dr. Henry Faulds. Which city's drivers owe over $460 million in _parking fines_? New York. How many minor league _home runs_ did Babe Ruth hit?" asks Castle, voice rising steadily, trying to infer that the questions fell in their combined favor, and that's why they won...both times.

"When was Marvel Comics created? Do porcupines masturbate? What were the colors of the dresses of the three good fairies in Sleeping Beauty?" counters Kate, squaring up to Castle, her hands on her hips.

"W-why would you think I would know the answer to _those_ particular questions?" asks Castle, indignantly.

"Well, _didn't_ you?"

"1939, yes, and green, pink, blue."

"_See._ You just made my point. We got equal numbers of questions we could both answer."

"Oh, come now, children," soothes Martha, grabbing both of them by the hand and drawing them together. "There is no point fighting now, darlings. You are _stuck_ with one another from here to eternity. So, face facts, kiddo," she tells her son, tugging playfully on his chin. "You'd be much better off teaming up with this beautiful, intelligent creature and beating the pants off the rest of us, instead of trying to take her on. Be gracious in defeat, Richard dear. It's the mark of a man."

Kate smirks at him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. But Martha isn't quite finished it seems.

"Harmony in the bedroom is the key above all to a successful relationship, darling. So, ask yourself this, do you really need to win a board game that badly? Especially if it's at the expense of a night of passion, kiddo?"

Kate is blushing furiously when Martha places her hand in Castle's, as if joining them in matrimony. Jim Beckett is chuckling to himself as he finishes the last of the popcorn, enjoying an embarrassing moment _he_ for once did not have a hand in creating, and Alexis doesn't know where to look.

* * *

"Phew, do I get a t-shirt?" asks Kate, flopping backwards onto the bed sometime later, bouncing once, her heels dropping to the bedroom floor with a dull clatter.

"You want one of my t-shirts?" asks Castle, popping his head out of the closet, a little puzzled. "I put that sinful, silky, black negligee into your drawer after I did the laundry. Thought maybe you could wear that tonight? Or, not so much _wear_ really as let me strip it off you…with my teeth," he leers, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Kate laughs, her giggle shivering the mattress.

"You telling me what to wear now, Castle?" she asks, toying with him. Like she wouldn't have slipped into that little number for herself…heck, who is she kidding, for _him_.

"Never," he says, shaking his head slowly, reminded yet again just how independent she is.

Right answer, thinks Kate.

"Anyway, I meant an '_I survived a Castle Christmas' _t-shirt," she tells him, rolling onto her side so that she can see his face.

"Was it really that bad?" he asks quietly, coming to sit down beside her on the bed, smoothing a hand through her hair, so kind, so tender, so much love in his eyes.

"I had fun. My dad had fun. It was great. _Really_ great. I'm just teasing," she reassures him, drawing his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"Yeah, your dad's quite the live wire when he gets going."

"Your mom seems to think so. Did you see the way she was looking at him, hanging on every word?"

"_Kate_," Castle warns with a groan, leaning over her to kiss her mouth softly, her eyes fluttering closed. "Don't start that again or I'll have nightmares," he says, so seriously that she starts to giggle, can't help herself.

"I'm just messing with you. Don't be a baby," she says, stretching up to chase after his mouth, her fingers curling over his bare thigh, squeezing lightly.

* * *

He's further advanced than her in getting ready for bed, already stripped down to his boxers and a grey t-shirt.

"You'll wrinkle that dress if you lie there much longer," he points out, standing, tugging on her hands to bring her upright again.

"You've been dying to get me out of this all day," she teases, her body feeling heavy and liquid.

"I've been staring at that sinful zipper, just as the designer intended, imagining unwrapping you like the perfect Christmas present you are. Come here," he growls, sliding one hand around her abdomen until her back is pressed against his stomach, laying his head against the top of her spine.

"You mean you spent the day staring at my ass?"

"Not…_no_. Well, not all the time," he laughs, when she turns and smacks his chest. "Only when no one was watching."

"No one's watching now," she tells him, arching her eyebrow in suggestion.

"Mmm, damn well hope not," he growls, spinning her back round by her hips, clever fingers walking over her lace clad body, unerring in their task.

The exposed zipper _is_ rather inviting, and obvious, as Castle pointed out. The teeth are gold, and it's pretty broad; a golden slash from below the jut of her shoulder blades to the hem at the bottom of the dress, though it's prevented from opening any further south than beneath the curve of her buttocks. But it has been calling to him since the second he first saw her perform that shy little twirl for him all those hours ago.

He slips off one shoulder and kisses her warm skin, and then repeats the same move on the other side. When he presses his lips to the middle of her spine she shivers, taut muscles contracting and arching her back upwards as he lowers the zipper several teeth at a time.

When she yawns he pulls her down into his lap, shedding the dress to the floor so that she sits in just a strapless black bra and matching black satin underwear.

"Let's get you into bed," he whispers, brushing the hair away from her neck so that he can skirt the soft, fragrant skin hidden underneath with his lips.

"What happened to peeling my negligee off with your teeth?" she complains. But her protest is weak and they both know it.

"Have to put it on you first," he laughs. "Just…get in, love. I want to talk to you," he adds, holding the covers back for her.

Kate feels a sudden rush of panic. Wishes she could just distract him with her hands, her mouth, the play of her supple body over his. But that's going to look clumsy, awkward, and forced now. So she settles back against the mountain of pillows waiting for him to finish hanging her dress in his closet, grabbing a small velvet throw pillow and hugging it tight to her chest like some kind of shield.

* * *

When he gets into bed beside her, she draws her knees up to her chest under the covers, turning slightly to face him as he fusses with the sheet, folding and smoothing it over the top of the comforter. Delaying.

"Rick, what was my dad saying to you…earlier, in the kitchen? Was it…?"

"I _know_ you're not ready, Kate," he interrupts. "I'm sorry. I let myself get carried away. Christmas, Alexis all grown up, all of us here together as a family. It's not fair of me to force something this big on you. Nor is it fair of your dad."

"Wow! Not what I was expecting at all," she says, exhaling the words.

"What _were_ you expecting?"

"A full-on Castle-style campaign, I guess," she laughs shakily, resting her chin on her tented knees before turning to look at him, her cheek now resting there in its place.

"Kate, you know me better than that now. We know each other better. You have to tell me to stop when I get carried away," he tells her, smoothing his hand down her spine.

"Castle, I don't always _know_ what's good for me…or…or trust that I do. If I'd told you to stop pushing your way into my life four years ago, _really insisted_, where would we be now? Not here, that's for sure. Sometimes…sometimes I think maybe I need _you_ to know what's best for both of us."

"And this?"

"This? This _will be_ the right thing in the long run, I promise. Just, let me get used to…to loving you, and figuring out in my head how to deal with how terrified that makes me."

"Terrified?"

"Mmm-hmm. If I ever lost you."

"And you think _I_ don't have those thoughts too?" he asks her, his face so serious it breaks her heart that he even has to consider stuff like this simply because she's in his life.

"Kate, _you're _the cop…with the gun, and don't think for one second that that makes you the safe one. Because it doesn't. Statistically, it makes you the _target_. And I know that I'm with you most of the time, but not always. What happens the night you're at your place, and…and you get a call, and I have a meeting the next day so you don't want to disturb me, and so you go it alone and the perp is still on scene when you get there because some dumb rookie forgot to clear the perimeter properly, and…"

"Okay, Rick, stop. Just…stop. You have to breathe," she says, dropping the throw pillow onto the floor and twisting further round so that her knees are bracketing his left hip and thigh.

She takes his hand, holds it between both of her own.

"I think this is why I waited so long to let us happen. Imaginings like this got in the way. Even more benign scenarios, like our relationship just fizzling out, and how that would inevitably mean I would lose you as a partner too. But just look at us. So scared of losing one another. Doesn't that _tell_ you something?"

"That I love you more than I ever thought possible. To the point of pain sometimes," he confesses, worried eyes skating over her face, her lips, circling back to find her equally intense eyes looking back at him.

"Me too," she adds quietly, massaging the hollow of his palm with her thumbs, cradling the back of his hand with her fingers. "You…you once said that we don't have all the answers. That we just have to live with the questions and find our way. Well, I think we're doing a pretty good job so far."

"I do too. So, how about we just continue as we are for now? Let the dust settle. Then talk about it some more next year."

"Is that _really_ what you want?"

He shrugs. "I want _you_ to be happy, Kate."

And that is really the crux of it for her; that this man spends so much of his time, his life, trying to make sure that hers is perfect. He gives up his own time just to sit by her side, content to do no more than exist in her presence some days. It humbles her, his devotion. And he deserves more in return. He deserves all that she can afford to give him.

"And what if _I_ can't wait?" she asks, tugging on his pinky to make him look at her.

Because if there's one thing Kate Beckett has learned about herself, it's that for her to overcome a hurdle like this, it has to feel like _her_ idea, _her _dream. She won't be pushed into anything. Not by Castle and not by her dad. But if it's her idea, if she's the one in the driving seat…

"But, I thought…? Are you _serious?_" The words burst out of his mouth, his excitement a palpable thing, his hope so bare and raw.

He's gripping her knee just a little too tightly.

"Risking my heart with you and risking my heart with a child…a child of ours, it's the same thing, isn't it?" she asks, looking to him for guidance. Needing his reassurance on this. Uncharted territory for her.

"I can only share my own experience, Kate. And, _honestly?_ Having Alexis brought me equal amounts of joy and terror. Just like loving you is a double-edged sword at times. But I would never, _ever_, give up the opportunity to love both of you because of the infinitesimal risk of losing you. _Never._"

Her heart is pounding. But she wants this, she really does. After today, with her dad and his mom, Alexis…she wants family back in her life. Needs it.

"Then...then, what if we throw caution to the wind? See what happens?" she suggests, her mouth going dry.

"You mean…?"

"I mean, starting tomorrow…what if…no more pills? And if it happens it happens."

"And your job? What about your job?"

"We work around that when it becomes an issue."

"_When?_"

"Yes, _when_. I won't be the only mother in the history of the NYPD. There are a few precedents, you know."

She's nodding now, persuading _him_, and that feels right. _Her_ idea. _Her_ decision. She already knows what _he_ wants, just had to be sure she could give it to him. No more broken promises.

"I can't believe… Are you _sure?_"

"_No,_" she laughs nervously, clutching onto his fingers, hysteria building in her chest like a real, solid thing. "But, since when was life certain?"

She feels like she's flying, flying without any kind of safety net. And it's exhilarating.

"_Our_ lives?" he laughs, lifting her into his lap, warm, strong arms surrounding her. "Almost never. But we're doing okay. I think we're pretty amazing."

"Merry Christmas, Castle," she whispers, the words seeping into his skin in little ticklish puffs in time with the racing beat of her heart. "Thank you for everything."

"My pleasure," he says, letting his words disappear into the beginnings of a lingering kiss, fingers gently caressing her skin.

"Maybe Santa will bring us a baby this time next year?" he mumbles ridiculously against her neck, his nose nudging her ear, his heart full to bursting.

"If you think Santa brings babies, Castle, you and I need to talk," she laughs, chest brushing tantalizingly up against his with every hiccupped breath.

"Shhh, no more talking," he hushes, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips, drinking her in. "How about you just show me?" he suggests, laying her down with him, the two of them curled up on the mattress together, a heap of downy-soft pillows at their backs, as the snow drifts heavily past the window, blanketing Manhattan in a thick, perfect layer of white.

_A/N_: _And so we come to the end of this Christmas tale, folks. I've had a lot of fun getting into the festive spirit while writing this Christmas build-up. And I've thoroughly enjoyed your company along the way – your traditions, suggestions and reminiscences. I want to wish everyone a safe, healthy, happy Christmas & New Year. May 2013 bring only good things for our little Castle family. Happy holidays! Liv x_


End file.
